


home is the nicest word there is

by ruthvsreality



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Historical, Arranged Marriage, Historical References, Implied Mpreg, Knotting, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-05-24 20:08:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 56,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14961327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruthvsreality/pseuds/ruthvsreality
Summary: Jon glances at the man who brought him here, who took him away from Boston, from his family, from Tommy. I hate you, he thinks.“I do.” he says.dan/favs, a/b/o + mail order bride(ish) + 1890s prairie au.





	1. June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “There's no great loss without some small gain.” - Laura Ingalls Wilder, Little House on the Prairie

Black. Black like soot. That’s the color of the suit Jon’s alpha is wearing. It looks old but not well worn. It looks like it’s been sitting in a closet for a decade, only taken out for funerals. That would make sense.  This whole affair feels like a funeral.    


Jon imagined his wedding to be something sweet. He’d wear a blue suit with a flower. Something smart. A catholic priest. His alpha holding his hand and smiling. His mom weeping in the front row.

There’s none of that here. They’re in the rectory of the local church — Jon doesn’t even think it’s Catholic. The priest looks a little like the president; he has the same mustache as Cleveland. No pretense that this marriage is based on love or affection. It’s very businesslike. The priest doesn’t deliver a sermon or homily.  Maybe that’s another thing Jon’s alpha — Dan, his name is Dan, he said not to call him Daniel, and Jon isn’t in the mood to disobey him already — uses his suit for. What business does a farmer do that would require a suit? Jon doesn’t know. There aren’t any farmers in Boston.

He might never see Boston again. His parents, Tommy, his college classrooms, and even the little apartment he lived in with his family that wasn’t big enough to house all of them especially when the baby arrived. He should never have gone to college. He should’ve stayed home and let his parents save their money. 

But he did decide to go to college, and his parents did spend their money, and this is how he keeps a roof over his head. A young, eligible omega -- Never bonded, never  pregnant, happy to help out wherever he’s needed. Educated, even. Given a “very expensive” education, according to his father. 

He wants to hate his father right now, for sending him here, but he can’t. He just misses them all so much. They were gone so quickly, in a fog of smoke and black soot on the train platform. He was alone on the long, hot train ride to the middle of nowhere in central Pennsylvania to meet his husband. Daniel Pfeiffer. A farmer. An alpha. A man he hasn’t spoken more than two words to. 

Jon stares at Dan Pfeiffer’s black shoes. They’re scuffed up. There’s a piece of grass stuck to one of them. They look like soot, too. Everything is dirty and musty and terrible. Jon hates this. 

The mayor is the witness. Jon wonders what exactly Dan Pfeiffer did for Mayor Obama (that’s his name, right?) that made them close enough that he’s the witness at his wedding.

Jon doesn’t have a witness. Jon’s all alone. Jon has one suitcase and a knapsack full of books and nothing else to protect him. There aren’t any cities around for miles. No college, no hospital. Just a church and a schoolhouse and a small strip of shops. Other than that it’s just fields of wheat and corn and soybeans. 

Someone nudges him. Jon realizes that he’s being prompted to speak. 

“Sorry,” Jon says automatically, “could - could you repeat the question?”

The man next to him closes his eyes in embarrassment. The priest doesn’t blink. He’s done this before.

“Do you, Jon Favreau, take Dan Pfeiffer, to be your wedded husband?” 

That’s it. No sickness—and—in—health business. Short and sweet.

Jon glances at the man who brought him here, who took him away from Boston, from his family, from Tommy. I hate you, he thinks.

“I do.” he says. 

———

If the wedding itself was like a funeral, the buggy ride home is the lowering of a coffin. There’s nothing around to look at, nothing to distract Jon from the big, broad-shouldered man to the left of him. Just fields of wheat and corn and soybeans as far as the eye can see. It would be pretty if Jon wasn’t so miserable. 

“Here we are.” Dan stops his horse in front of a small but pretty house, with red shutters.

Jon doesn’t say anything, just leans against Dan’s hand as he climbs out of the carriage. He can’t even look at him. 

The interior is modest and sparsely decorated. The walls are mostly blank, save for a large map of the state tacked up on one wall and an old flag hung on another. There’s a big worn couch on one side of the room, under the window, that forms a right angle with a small table that serves as a divider between the living room and the kitchen. The stove is big and black, yet another thing that reminds Jon of his train ride here. There’s a checkered napkin hanging on a hook. 

“I have running water,” Dan says, as Jon glances into the bathroom. “I only got it installed just last year.” His voice is teeming with pride.

Jon didn’t have running water in Boston, that’s for sure. 

He turns around and panic immediately sets in. There is only one room left — the bedroom. 

Jon had forgotten in all of his curiosity, that being married doesn’t just mean sitting through a ceremony with a priest. It means a wedding night, sex, bonding, getting pregnant and — 

“You’ll stay here, if that’s alright. It gets a bit drafty in the winter but I’m sure if you bundle up you’ll —”

Dan must see the look on Jon’s face, because something in his expression changes. “I’m — we don’t need to do any of that. I’ll sleep on the couch, if you want. I won’t ever enter that room without your permission, from now on. I’m not going to force you to — do anything — tonight. Or ever.”

Good, Jon thinks. I’m never going to offer.

But he has to ask. “Then why did you bring me here?” There’s acid in his voice. He doesn’t try to hide it. 

The way Dan tilts his head makes it clear that he hasn’t given the question too much thought. Which is insane. Jon’s not a table or a tractor or whatever it is farmers get shipped to them on a train. He’s a person. With hopes and dreams and plans to see Washington and climb the capitol steps and he can’t do any of those things anymore. 

“I wanted an extra pair of hands,” Dan says finally, “and I could use some companionship. And maybe…” He trails off. “Never mind. Those were the reasons.”

Those were stupid reasons, Jon thinks. You want companionship, get a dog. Now I’m stuck here alone and there’s nothing to do and it’s hot and everything’s black and I’m tired and achy and covered in soot.

“Do you need anything?” Dan asks. 

Jon looks down at his sleeves, formerly starch-stiff and white, and compares them to Dan’s faded, worn collar, which is bunched up around his suit jacket. Someone should fix that, Jon thinks. Is that his job now, to touch this strange man and fix his clothes and go where he tells him, including into his bedroom?

“I think I need to be alone.” Jon says.

Dan nods, his face unreadable, and walks to the other end of the house. Jon waits until his back is turned to go into the bedroom. He closes and locks the door and flops down on the bed. When he rolls over, little black streaks are left on the sheet.

He doesn’t speak to Dan for the rest of the month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As someone who has never actually seen Little House on the Prairie, nor has lived anywhere near what could be considered "the prairie", I apologize in advance for all the mistakes I'm going to make. I also apologize if there are any aspects of the story that are inaccurate to the time period. Finally, I apologize for the astronomical amount of time this is inevitably going to take to get completed.
> 
> Much love to deardiary for betaing this for me, as well as baking-soda for inspiring me to write this, and armandoiannucci for helping me flesh this out. go follow them all on tumblr.
> 
> Don't forget to vote in the midterms!


	2. July

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember well, and bear in mind, a constant friend is hard to find. - Laura Ingalls Wilder

In Boston Jon had been pretty talkative. He was part of the debate society. Tommy once told him that if reading the news out loud was a job, Jon could get it in a heartbeat. Jon likes to talk about everything - the news, books, plants and animals, what he was learning in school, what was going on in the local government.

Turns out, Jon can’t go the rest of his life without talking. Or without leaving the new tiny house that is now _his_ house. So, reluctantly, he drags himself out of his room after the second week of not talking to Dan at all.

Dan hadn’t said anything when he’d stayed in his room all that time. He’d just knocked on Jon’s door and told him that lunch or supper was ready. At first, Jon thought that Dan always ate his meals outside, but after a while it became clear that Dan was just trying to give Jon space.

Somehow that made Jon hate him more.  That this alpha would spend so much effort to get an omega in his house and then would eat all of his meals outside. But his love of talking superseded all of his instinctive hatred after the second weekend of lying in bed brooding.  The house is simply too quiet without anyone to talk to. Jon had lived in a big brick building in Boston. Here, the house creaks and makes odd noises as the wind rushes through it. So he gruffly tells Dan on Monday to please come inside and sit with him while he has supper.

“So, um.” Dan ladles some stew into Jon’s bowl and sets it down in front of him. “What do you do?”

“What do I _do?”_ Jon doesn’t hide his incredulity.  The man married him two weeks ago and he doesn’t know what he does?

There’s an awkward pause. “In my defense, you haven’t really… talked to me much.”

Oh. Right. “I’m a schoolteacher.” Jon swallows a spoonful of stew.  It’s good; not as good as what he had at home, but it’s good.

“What do you teach?”

“Everything, where I’m needed.” Jon shrugs. “Reading, writing, and arithmetic. I studied government at Holy Cross.”

“Nice.” Dan nods and chews thoughtfully. “I’m in agriculture.”

Jon looks at him. “I know.”

“Right.”

Another awkward pause as they sit and eat their food.  Jon’s beginning to regret this. Is this what life is going to be like, now? Conversations that peter off into nothing?

Jon can’t speak for Dan, but he assumes he feels the same way Jon does. That he’d rather be anywhere else right now.

“You know,” Dan swallows before he continues talking, “they’re looking for a schoolteacher down the road, now that, uh,” he’s searching for the name, “Katy Tur got married.”

“I know.” Jon stirs his stew a little and looks at Dan. He’s already finished his bowl and is standing to get seconds. “I contacted the school board. I start in the fall.”

“Oh.”

 _Did you think I was going to spend all my time here staring out the window?_ Jon doesn’t say.  Instead, he says, “I need more paper for my notebook. May I go into town tomorrow? I can walk.”

“You don’t have to, um.” Dan gestures with one arm. “Ask me whenever you want to go somewhere. I’m not always going to be in the house, so, as long as you don’t stay out too late or hang out with any dangerous folks you can go wherever you want.”

“What - what sort of dangerous folks are there?” Jon can’t imagine anything dangerous in this tiny town other than coyotes.

“Just. Unpleasant types. People who aren’t so friendly.  You don’t need to worry about it.” Dan smiles. “Anyways. If you want more writing paper…” Dan looks up and moves his fingers in the air a little bit. “And if you want thread to sew it in your notebook, and then maybe ink…”

“I have money!” Jon doesn’t have a lot of money, but he has enough to keep himself from being dependent on Dan for little things like paper and ink.

“No, it’s fine.” Dan’s voice is slightly strained but he clears his throat and it goes away. “You can get all that at Lovett’s, probably.”

“Lovett?”

“He owns the drugstore in town. I’ve known him for years, tell him to put it on my account. And pet his cat for me.” Dan starts to clear up both of their bowls and brings them over to the sink.

Jon gets a funny feeling when he sees the smile that flashes across Dan’s face. Maybe it’s because he’s never really seen him happy about anything before, not in the two weeks they’ve spent together.  Whoever this Lovett is, he’s obviously Dan’s friend.

Jon wonders if this Lovett was an advocate for Dan’s marriage.  If he wanted Dan to be less lonely. If he congratulated Dan when he heard about the union.

Jon doesn’t know Lovett but he decides he’s not going to talk to him when he sees him. No matter how much he loves to talk.

______

It’s the middle of July and Jon Lovett is the only reason that Jon Favreau hasn’t gone insane in this tiny town.

“So I was telling him, ‘listen, lunkhead, just because he’s an omega doesn’t mean he isn’t a complete knockout’ and anyways my point is, Paul Ryan’s going to fall in love with me, one of these days our eyes are going to meet while he’s handing me the milk and we’ll immediately fall head over heels and it’ll be great. Jon, are you even listening to me?”

Jon chuckles. “I honestly don’t know what you see in him, Lovett, if everyone you know says he’s terrible. Have you even spoken two words to him?”

“Jon, if you need to know anything about me, you should know that’s never stopped me before.”

Lovett is fantastic. He’s easily the funniest person Jon’s ever met. Jon made up excuses to see him for the first few days but then it became clear from his silence and pleasant conversation about Jon’s whereabouts that Dan truly doesn’t mind if Jon is out all day as long as he comes home before the sun sets.

Good. Jon is happy to spend the rest of the summer walking two miles each day to the storefront with Lovett’s name written in loopy letters. There, he can sit by the window and chew the rag with Lovett, who is talkative enough to fill up all of Jon’s free days before the school year starts.

Lovett’s a beta, but he walks like he’s an alpha. He’s lived in this town all his life and has known Dan for years. But he doesn’t congratulate Jon on the marriage.  Jon is grateful for that. He doesn’t want Lovett to see him as an extension of Dan, or worse, as Dan’s property. Hell, half the reason he’s spending so much time in town is so he doesn’t have to make small talk with Dan.  

He doesn’t really hate Dan anymore; even Jon has to admit he hasn’t done anything really worthy of Jon’s hatred. But he still dislikes him a lot, for putting him in this situation. He’s not going to willingly spend time with him if he can help it. Dan can have his fields of wheat and his cows (or so Jon imagines, he hasn’t watched him actually do his job all that much), and Jon can have Lovett.

Lovett can calculate budgets and inventories and spare change faster than anyone Jon’s ever met. He writes letters to the editor of the local newspaper every other week, even though he himself admits he’s probably the only one who reads them, including the editor. He has a little calico cat named Pundit, who he says is supposed to catch mice, though Jon has only ever seen her catch sunbeams. Lovett knits his own socks and is very willing to show them off.

Lovett loves to talk, but more importantly, he’s happy to listen, too. Jon tells him about Boston, about Tommy, about his family. He tells him about what he studied at college and how he’s kind of afraid of those new horseless carriages he’s heard about in New York and how he’s excited to get new school books so he can read them before the older kids do. He even talks to Lovett about Dan.  He knows Lovett’s friends with Dan, so he doesn’t complain about him too much, but he has to talk to _somebody,_ and Lovett doesn’t seem to mind.

Jon thinks Tommy would like Lovett. It seems like everybody would like Lovett.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Lovett tells him, as he’s closing up his shop one night. “Even if you’re miserable here, you don’t seem miserable around me, and that’s good. Because I could’ve used someone to talk to, too.”

Jon scratches behind Pundit’s ears one last time for the night. This entire situation is pretty bad, but Lovett is alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Maddie @everyonewillsee on tumblr for betaing this chapter. 
> 
> Don't forget to vote in the midterms!


	3. August

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It is not the things you have that make you happy. It is love and kindness and helping each other and just plain being good." - Laura Ingalls Wilder

It’s hot. Unbearably hot. Swelteringly hot.  Leave-balls-of-dough-outside-on-the-porch-and-get-cookies-hot. At least, that’s how Tommy used to describe it. Jon’s never actually seen it.  
  
It’s so hot that, apparently, the corn is sweating. Lovett told him so. Apparently when it gets warm enough, the water gets soaked up from the corn and into the air and makes everything humid. That’s how hot it is. Even the plants are sweating.  
  
That, or Lovett was just fucking with him. That’s also entirely possible.  
  
Jon doesn’t have anything to do until the school year starts. All he has is his daily trip to Lovett’s to see if his school books have arrived.  
  
He ordered them specially. He’s taught in Boston, but. This isn’t Boston. There are so many different things to learn here that people might be interested in! Different plants and animals and the science of the world they live in and — well. Jon’s been able to distract himself with the books he has, but you can only reread Jules Verne so many times.  
  
He can’t wait until school starts. Until then everything is just so boring. Same house, same fields of corn, same Dan.  
  
Dan. Jon dislikes him so much. That head of short, fuzzy hair and those strange cool blue eyes that he can’t quite decipher.  He walks around with that easy confidence, like he knows exactly what his place is in the world. He wakes up every day long before Jon does, and gets home at the same time, right before the sun starts to set. He’s still insufferably kind to Jon; Jon can’t help but be worried that there’s some sort of catch.  
  
After all, Dan’s his husband, supposedly. That’s a weighted word.  
  
But even Jon has to admit that Dan’s not the worst thing in this town. Dan’s not terrible at conversation, and he’s a pretty good cook. They don’t talk too often, but occasionally Dan will ask what Jon’s reading, or if Jon can tell him what’s happened in the newspaper.  
  
Dan doesn’t like reading the newspaper. He says the print is too small. For a while, Jon thought he wasn’t able to read. But no, Dan’s just a stubborn bastard who’s unwilling to get glasses.  
  
Well, Jon’s not going to tell him. If Dan wants to go blind by the time he reaches an old age, then he can go ahead.  
  
It’s too hot to worry about anyone but yourself, Jon thinks, lying in bed. There’s no sound outside his bedroom. Nothing. Not even a creak of the house. Dan built it to be solid and unyielding. Which is probably lovely in the winter, but right now all Jon wants is a draft. He wants cold. He wants a breeze.  
  
He wants his books to arrive from the postman. Every single day, he checks, and every single day, they aren’t there.  
  
“There’s going to be a lot of them.” Jon says over dinner one night. “I went to see the classroom, I guess I’ll just have to stack them in the corner. Won’t look very nice, but.” He shrugs and takes another forkful of chicken into his mouth. “Whatever.”  
  
He doesn’t know why he cares so much about the classroom looking nice. Maybe he just wants to impress the mayor when he comes to bring his kids.  
  
Maybe he just wants a place in this town that feels like his own. People are kind to him, here, but Jon doesn’t have any place that feels like it’s his. Even his bedroom still feels like someone else’s. Like any minute now he’ll wake up and be in the cramped family apartment in Boston, being nudged awake to take care of the baby.  
  
When the first stack of books comes in the mail Jon wants to jump for joy. He actually goes to grab Lovett and pull him into a hug, before remembering that Lovett doesn’t like to be hugged. It’s also very hot.  
  
But who cares? His books are here!

Dan helps him lug each heavy stack of books into his room the next day. There’s a lot of them. Jon had to ask Dan to take the buggy out so he could carry all of them.  
  
“And there’s only going to be more.” Jon says excitedly. He loves a good book. He ordered these special from the catalogue. He also ordered new books, new releases — H.G. Wells’ _The Time Machine_ , Anton Chekhov’s _The Seagull_ — books for the older kids to read while he’s working with the little ones. (And maybe he can read those himself, too.)  
  
After that first trickle of mail comes a flood. Jon comes in nearly every day and ends up having to tell Dan to take him back in the buggy the next morning so he can bring his books home.  
  
“You’re going to put all of these in that tiny classroom?” Dan asks while he’s helping Jon carry the books up the porch and into his house. The sun is setting behind them, making everything orange and pink; some of the dust from the road puffs up whenever Jon takes a step. It would be beautiful, but the barrenness and the way the sky doesn’t even seem to end out means it’s actually just eery instead.  
  
Dan would know about the size of the room, Jon supposes, because he went to school there.  
  
Jon can’t imagine Dan as a little kid. Dan’s too big and strong and silent for that. He can’t imagine him running around, laughing, chasing a hoop with a stick. But it must’ve happened.  
  
Jon shakes himself out of his thoughts and lugs the biology textbooks up the steps of the porch. “Yep! I’ll make the squeeze. Worst comes to worst I can keep the ones we’re not currently using at home.”  
  
Dan makes a little “hmm” noise behind him. Jon doesn’t look back. He’s too focused on the pages of the books he’s holding, leaf-thin and full of knowledge.

Jon gets the house to himself for the next week, which is good, because it means he’s able to sit on the porch and read his books. A very light breeze comes through every once in a while; he welcomes it like an old friend. When it gets dark late at night, Jon goes into his room and curls up in the big red quilt on his bed, surrounded by various stacks of books. It’s wonderful.

He doesn’t know where Dan is. A little part of him worries at first, but not too much. Over time, however, he starts to wonder where Dan is when he’s not out in the fields, doing whatever it is farmers do.  Jon sometimes sees him go to the barn and then only emerge when the sun has set completely. What’s he doing in there? Tending to the sheep?

Does Dan even have sheep? Jon hasn’t looked.

Finally, Jon can’t stand not knowing enough that he flat out asks.

“What are you doing in your barn?” He asks as soon as Dan makes his way towards the door, one Thursday night.

Dan blinks at him and stands up a little straighter. He’s changed out of his work clothes, into what Jon has started to call his “afternoon clothes”, which almost always consist of a plaid shirt and trousers that look less worn.

“Well, I was planning on showing you tomorrow, but…” He gestures for Jon to come along with him. Jon follows, taking note to close the door so flies don’t get in.

Inside the barn, sitting there in a valley between enormous piles of hay, is a bookshelf. Tall, about as tall as Jon is, sanded, halfway painted with the same red of the barn. A shelf. A bookshelf.

“For your books.” Dan says. “Well. Some of the books, anyway. You can keep it at home for your personal books, or we can take it to the schoolhouse, if you want.” He puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “Just… I know you like to read.”  
  
“I do.” Jon breathes. The dust from the barn is sparkling in the setting sun. He walks forward and runs his fingers over the side of the shelf.

“I have a friend, Ira, who can probably sell us some fiction, or I can ask the mayor if he has anything he’s willing to part with…” Dan trails off. Jon’s not really listening. He’s still looking at the shelf.

No one’s ever made something like this for him before. He’s not even sure what he would do with a pile of wood. But Dan made him a shelf. Without even asking. Just because he wanted to.

Maybe Dan isn’t so bad. Maybe they can be… not friends, no, but acquaintances. Something like that. Maybe they can talk, once in a while. If Dan is so kind to him, that’s the least Jon can do.  It’s clear this is an olive branch. A signal, saying that Dan’s purpose on this earth isn’t to make him suffer, even if it felt that way at first.

“I can finish painting it tomorrow.” Dan says behind him. Jon puts his palm flat on the wood of the shelf.

“We can do it together.”

____

“It’s so hot.” Jon says into his pillow. He knows it’s muffled, though. To Dan it probably sounds like, “Mmm fff mmf.”

Whatever. The point still stands. It’s the tail end of August and Jon has _not_ been handling the heat very well. Worse than usual, actually.

Dan has knocked on the door, which is the signal not only that he’s back from his morning walk around the fields but that breakfast is ready. Breakfast sounds good.

Now if only Jon could muster up the energy to get out of bed. Ugh. The heat has sapped all of his will power to do anything other than sit and stare out the window. Maybe it’s the lingering depression from coming here. Or maybe he’s just lazy.

“Good morning.” Dan says when Jon arrives in the kitchen. He’s sipping his coffee and looking through his farmer’s almanac, that always seems to be nearby whenever Dan goes anywhere. He probably sleeps with it.

“It’s hot.”  
  
“It’s August.” Dan doesn’t seem all that perturbed. “It’s the corn sweats.”

“Lovett told me about those. Are you sure they’re real?”

Dan smirks a little. “Dunno. Lovett told me about them too.”

Jon flops down on the couch. “What are you doing today?” He feels odd, like there’s a strange weight in the pit of his stomach. He looks out the window. Absolutely no breeze. Nothing.

Dan doesn’t respond. He seems to be concerned about the forecast. “Heat’s a sure thing for the next few days.” He sighs. “So much for overland trout. Too hot.”

Jon’s too tired to repeat the question. He sinks further into the couch.

Dan’s figure is very stocky. The line of his abdomen down to his hips is nice, though — wait. Jon sits up.

“Dan?” He asks. “Do I… smell different to you?”

Dan turns around in his chair. He blinks, a little confused. “How do you figure? I bought your soap.” He means the soap that Jon liked in Boston — Dan bought it for him, an act which Jon is both pleased and suspicious of. He hopes Dan isn’t trying to convince him to do anything. They’re talking, but that’s it. Jon isn’t even sure they’re friends. He’s not even sure he likes Dan. He’s not even sure Dan likes _him._ Maybe he’s just being nice.

The fact that all of these thoughts tumble into Jon’s head only makes his suspicions worse.

“No, I mean. Right now. Do I smell… different.” He tries to put in as much innuendo as possible without actually saying it.

Dan’s eyes widen. “I… honestly wouldn’t know.”

“Well,” Jon says, a little exasperated, “could you check? I need to know if I’m — if I’m in heat.” There. He’s said it.

It’s an intimate thing, for an omega. But Jon would rather know as early as possible, and alphas are literally designed to be able to tell.

Dan swallows, visibly, and slowly sets down his mug of coffee.  He walks over so that he’s standing over Jon at the couch. (He’s very tall.) Awkwardly, he leans down and breathes in around Jon’s neck. Jon sits perfectly still and ignores how his brain has turned into the equivalent of oatmeal. He probably doesn’t even need Dan to confirm, at this point. It’s pretty obvious why Jon’s feeling the way he’s feeling.

There’s an old wives’ tale that an omega’s heat cycle can change with the weather, until they’re acclimated to it. Jon had never really given it any thought, beyond thinking that it’s not how heats work. At least, it’s not how his heats work. His don’t get triggered at all. Until now, apparently.

“Um,” Dan stands up, “I think — maybe you’re in heat? I’m — again, I honestly wouldn’t know.” His voice sounds odd.

He’s also not looking Jon in the eye. Jon feels a strange sting, like he’s been rejected because of his scent. Why does he feel like that? He certainly doesn’t want Dan that way.

“Shit.” Dan looks at his watch, and then starts to clear off the table in a hurried fashion. “Uh, to answer your question earlier…” he puts his mug in the sink, “I actually, um, have some travelling to do today. I’ll be back in a couple of days.”

Jon blinks. “What?”

“You know how I sometimes travel to the capitol with Mayor Obama? Well.” He looks up. “I have to do that, today.” He goes over to the dresser that’s been moved to the living room, shoving clothes into a small, battered briefcase.

“You didn’t tell me that before.”

“I’m sorry about that.” Dan pauses for a second, and then resumes his slightly haphazard packing style. “But. I have to catch a train. I’ll be back in a couple of days, okay?”

There’s that strange note in his voice again. But Jon is too sluggish to care. Besides, that’ll mean he has the house to himself during his heat.

Dan stops and grabs his hat before shutting his briefcase. He puts it on and takes a deep breath. “I’ll be back in a couple of days, okay?”

Jon shifts a little on the couch. This is all happening very fast. “Okay. What — what should I do for food?”

“Travis will bring you eggs and meat and things. I’ll ask Lovett to deliver some other things.”

Even better. Jon would not want to go out during his heat. Especially when it gets really bad.

He should’ve brought some of his… private… magazines with him from Boston. Oh well. He’ll find something to think about.

Dan leaves very quickly after that, rushing around like a whirlwind. Jon wonders what he does with the mayor. Is he going to the state capitol, or to Washington?

Jon wishes he could go to Washington.

His heat really starts to take effect the next day. Jon is very pleased to have the house to himself, so he can stretch out in bed and touch himself as much as he’d like. He’s not desperate for it yet. Not aching, thrashing around in the sheets. Which is good because he’s pretty sure Lovett’s going to show up soon.

Sure enough, around noon, Lovett shows up with a few bags full of groceries — salt, pepper, other things you can’t get on a farm — and some bottles of soda.

“Are you, um, okay enough to come outside and sit a while?” Lovett looks simultaneously awkward and entirely too comfortable with being around someone in heat.

Jon has some pretty bad cramps, but he’s still got all of his mental faculties in order. “Sure.”

They sit out on the porch steps and watch Travis, the field hand, feed the chickens. Jon talks about school coming up, and Dan’s business with the mayor, and his heat.

“You know, it’s funny,” Lovett says, “my mom always told me heat brings heats but I never really believed it.”

“I don’t think it was the heat that triggered it.” Jon shrugs and sips his soda, leaning on  his elbows. “Must’ve been something else. Something random.”

“Well, if you need suppressants or anything, you know who to ask.”

Jon winces. “I think I’m fine.” He doesn’t know much about Dan’s financial situation, but he’s very sure that Dan can’t afford those newfangled suppressants. Not even at Lovett’s friends and family discount (which, as Jon has learned, extends to nearly half the town, or at least everyone who voted for mayor Obama.)

“Well,” Lovett tilts his head a little, “you could always try getting rid of the ache the old fashioned way.”

Jon gives him a confused look, but nearly spits out his soda when Lovett makes a rude gesture with his hands. “Oh my god, Lovett!” He laughs, hard, and Lovett laughs with him.

Travis, over by the chickens, seems to get distracted by Jon and Lovett’s guffawing and trips over his bucket of feed. That only makes Jon and Lovett laugh harder.  
  
“But seriously,” Lovett says, taking deep breaths to calm himself, “Dan’s your husband. Have you really never —?”

“Don’t describe it, please.” Jon closes his eyes and scrunches up his nose. “My stomach feels funny as it is.”

“Okay.” Lovett takes another sip and stands up, leaning against the column of the porch.

“Dan’s never offered and I… I am _not_ going to ask.” He hopes he says it in a way that conveys the entire situation.

“Okay… but,” Lovett bites his lip and sits back down, “you do know… _how_ to take care of it, right?”

Jon rolls his eyes. “I’m a virgin, Lovett, I’m not stupid. Besides, whatever I don’t know will be in whatever booklet I pick for my…” He sighs. “Students.”

Lovett goes bright red. “Excuse me?!” He looks on the verge of laughter.

“Some of the teachers back home recommended I teach a class on the, uh, birds and the bees.”

“They do realize we’re not all idiots out here, right?”

“Still. It’s probably best to make sure no one accidentally gets pregnant if they don’t want to be.” Jon finishes his soda. “Wouldn’t want any marriages getting forced.”  
  
There’s a silence. Lovett nods in understanding.

The next few days of Jon’s heat pass by in a flurry of sweat and need. Jon, listening to an owl hoot outside and the crops rustle in the breeze, wets his fingers with his own slick and slides them high inside himself. He takes a deep breath and thinks of mystery men, alphas without faces, bodies that would satisfy him. He thinks of strong muscles and blue eyes, and comes, over and over again. It’s nice but ultimately unsatisfying.

When Dan returns, a day after Jon’s heat ends, the wave of heat that has washed through their tiny town has ended, replaced with pouring rain. Dan comes in from the downpour, jacket soaking wet, and Jon closes the book he was reading.

“Hey there.” He says.

“Hey.” Dan nods and smiles at him.

“How, uh, how was business?”

“It was… alright.” His voice is a little stiff. He sneezes a little as he takes off his coat.

Jon frowns a little and sits up. “Did you get sick?” He asks, concerned.

“Just the rain.” He waves his his hand. “I’ll be fine. I have a sensitive system, that’s all. How was… your… business?”

“It was — fine.” Jon clears his throat. “Turns out I was in heat. Good to get it out of the way before the school year starts, at least, right?”

“Yeah.” Dan shifts awkwardly.

Jon wonders if maybe he still smells different from his heat.  Well, there’s not much he can do about it, is there?

“Let me - let me make us both a cup of tea,” Dan goes over to the kitchen, “and then we can sit out on the porch and watch the rain?”

Jon smiles. Okay, Dan’s not what he wanted in the grand scheme of things, but maybe he did miss him a little during his heat. Even if he did enjoy having the house to himself during his heat and being able to make all the noise he liked. “I’d like that.”

They sit outside and watch the rain fall and slide down in little rivers past the house and down the hill, washing away the last scent of summer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Overland Trout was a slang term for bacon.
> 
> Many thanks to tvietor08 for betaing this chapter. 
> 
> Please do leave feedback!


	4. September

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The object of all education is to make folks fit to live." - Laura Ingalls Wilder

The school year starts without any preamble — though Jon practically counts down the days, he’s so excited.

“Dan!” He wakes up at the crack of dawn, causing Dan to practically jump a foot into the air.

“What’s got you up so early?” He asks.

“First day of school, Daniel!” Jon smiles brightly. “It’s a brand new day. Gotta prepare! Gotta wash down the blackboard! Get ready for the bright young things!”

“‘Bright young things?’” Dan raises an eyebrow.

“Whatever.”

Dan helps him prepare for it, even loads all of Jon’s books and his brand new shelf into the wagon he usually uses to carry his crops. Jon points at various pieces of furniture and Dan moves them, and they prepare for the school year soundlessly.

The sun’s only starting to rise, so they sit out on the front step of the schoolhouse, eating thick slices of bread with butter and sharing the small glass bottle of milk that had been sitting in the cool pantry.

Jon’s more used to talking to Dan now, whether it’s reading him the newspaper or discussing what’s going on in town or talking about Dan’s work with the Mayor, which is mostly composed of helping him write things down and talking through ideas on how to make the town better than it already is. But Dan’s quiet in the morning, as if his brain is just waking up.

Jon’s the exact opposite. He’s already ready to go the moment that he opens his eyes. But he respects Dan’s request for quiet, so he pulls out his tiny notebook and begins to scribble in it; nothing special, just thoughts about what the day might bring.

“What’re you writing about?” Dan asks, shaking Jon out of the reverie that comes from staring out at the rolling hills of wheat and grass, illuminated by the rising sun.

“Um. Nothing.” He likes Dan, but there’s still some old pain associated with him. He’s not ready to show Dan everything. Opening his notebook for Dan gives Jon a strange image of Lovett opening his storage closet in his shop, except it’s filled to the brim and everything tumbles out, cans and boxes and bits of ink and paper falling all over the floor.

He doesn’t know why he thinks of that. What would tumble out if Jon opened himself up to Dan? Probably nothing. But maybe not. Sometimes it feels like maybe the process is happening anyway, but more gradually. Like dandelions growing through the floorboards; like the ones Jon and Dan found in the schoolhouse before they were able to scrub the room clean with washcloths and buckets of water.

He knows it must hurt Dan’s feelings because Dan gives him a stiff nod and leans back against the doorway. But Jon’s words are for Jon; he’s never considered giving them to anyone else before.

“I’d better get going before Travis sets all of the goats loose.” Dan stands up. “Try not to be too hard on the kids, okay?”

“They’re kids,” Jon smirks, “they deserve a little fire and brimstone.”

Dan leans down, and for a moment Jon thinks he’s going to cup Jon’s cheek with his hand. But he just squeezes his shoulder and gives a small smile.

Jon contemplates the alpha walking away from him, watching the folds and wrinkles in his red checkered shirt as he goes. There’s a blue handkerchief hanging out of his back pocket. Jon doesn’t know why he noticed that.

When students start to arrive, Jon’s surprised at the large amount of older children — he’s going to have to move some desks around by himself.  Louis and Emily look like they’re going to be fast friends, the way they’re crowded around some wires and bits of copper that they’re playing with.

The younger kids are nice, too. Little Nikki Haley has her hair done up in plaits. Already Mitch and Lindsay have found a turtle in the back of the schoolhouse, where the woods meet the clearing. Jon knows he’s going to have his hands full with the little ones, but he’s prepared to handle it. Not to mention the mayor’s children look well behaved enough that he shouldn’t have to worry about them.

It’s the first day of school, so while all the kids will be walking to school from now on, some parents have come to see the younger ones off — presumably to make sure they don’t get lost. Jon makes small talk, assures the parents that there will be strict discipline in his classroom.  He can already hear the recitation of poems in his head — and see the image of Marco with the dunce cap on if he keeps pushing Sheldon Whitehouse.

He doesn’t tell them that he’s actually learned some new teaching skills from Boston. He won’t be seeing any of these parents again until the end of the school year anyways. A parent’s job is important, but Jon has always valued giving students a different kind of education. Expanding their horizons a bit, even if it’s just teaching them how to read and write. He can still remember his teacher, a pretty beta with jet black hair and dark skin, leaning over him, making sure he could draw the number eight correctly. Those experiences are important, yes, but it’s equally important to hear what your peers are saying, and what experts and other smart people are saying about a certain topic.  
  
It’s all very normal and a controlled sort of chaos as the kids play in the yard and the parents make small talk until one buggy stops in front and everyone starts whispering.  
  
“There they are.” One woman says.  
  
“Can’t imagine why they’d be here.” Another woman murmurs.  
  
Jon frowns. They look like a normal couple, with a little toddler in tow. She has a pink bow in her hair and one of her braids in her mouth, and she looks curious and also fearful, as all little kids do. The woman is smartly dressed, her hair up in a tight bun. The man’s fashion, both his suit and his hair, strikes Jon as almost out of place — something he would be more used to seeing in Boston.

The man looks Jon dead in the eye. “Chris Hayes. My wife, Katy.”  
  
Jon glances at Mrs. Hayes and suddenly understands what all the gossip is about.  
  
They’re both alphas. A married alpha-alpha couple. Wow. That’s rare, even in Boston. It’s not illegal anymore, but — wow. Jon’s never met one in person. He can’t imagine what they’re going through. Do they have to put up with muttering and dirty looks everywhere they go?

Well, it doesn’t really matter. He’s here to take care of and teach their little girl, so it doesn’t really matter where she comes from. She’s his student now.

“What’s her name?” He asks. The little girl turns away from Jon and wraps her arms around her father’s neck.

“Zoey.” Mrs. Hayes says. “She’s actually been here before, she’s very excited — I used to teach here.”

“Oh!” Jon straightens up. “You must be Katy Tur. Well, I’ll be sure to live up to your expectations.” He looks at the little girl, who whispers to her father to be let down so she can play with the other children. “And hers.”

The rest of the school day goes fairly normally, considering that Mitch puts his new pet turtle and tries to hide it in his lunch pail, and Larry Kudlow gets into an argument with Emily over the spelling of the word “extravagant”. Still, Jon can’t help but think about the couple, who seem perfectly nice. Who cares if they’re both alphas? They didn’t choose who to love. And that was one thing he could gather as soon as he saw them — that they are very much in love.

I wonder what Dan would think about them, Jon thinks. He writes some more in his notebook and enjoys the quiet hour before he heads home from the schoolhouse on the two mile trek through town.

____

He’s sure to stop at Lovett’s before he gets home, to pick up a new letter from Tommy (!) and a packet of spice for dinner.

“There was a same-status couple at school today.” Jon sits at his spot in the window and pets Pundit, who is stretched out in Jon’s lap. Jon is constantly immensely jealous of the little tabby. All she needs to do is sit and be praised by Lovett.

Lovett’s eyes go wide at the comment. “Really? Kids are presenting pretty early in life these days.”

“No, genius, I mean a pair of parents were same-status.”

“Oh, wow, that’s even better. Two omegas?”

Jon rolls his eyes. “Lovett, we live in the 45 states of America, not outer space. No, two alphas. Just thought it was interesting. I didn’t know the last teacher here was an alpha.” The idea of having two omegas be married is preposterous. Omegas simply don’t have those rights — it’s amazing that they’re even able to vote. Besides, while it’s very rare, some alphas are able to have children. An omega-omega relationship would produce no children. And aren’t omegas supposed to have children? Isn’t that their purpose?

The idea makes Jon squirm a little so he ignores it and changes the subject.

And yet at home Jon still can’t help but bring it up with Dan in front of him. After all, these days Dan’s the person he talks to more than anybody else. If only because Dan’s the one he’s sharing living quarters with.

“Two alphas.” He muses over dinner — Dan made the chicken and Jon had cooked the rice. “Can you imagine?”

“Not really.” Dan takes a sip of slightly cloudy water. “I wonder how they got the little girl — Adoption, maybe?”

“Unless some omega agreed to be their surrogate.” Jon frowns. “That sounds awful.”

“Not necessarily. If they wanted to.”

“What, if you were an omega, you’d have a child for a person who didn’t love you back?”

“If I really loved them, I might be aching to have a child with them.”

Jon thinks he’s getting dangerously close to a personal spot in Dan’s beliefs that will just make him sad. He tries to lighten the mood. “Or, the omega could love both of them and be a surrogate.”

“That’s also possible.” Dan tilts his head. “I’d say keep a look out for an unmarried omega in this town, but then I’d sound like a gossip. Besides, if she’s a toddler, whatever happened, happened years ago.”

“Hmm.” Jon scoops up some of the last of his chicken and rice onto his fork. “An alpha-alpha couple.” He pauses, chews thoughtfully. “Certainly stirred the pot a bit among the parents. Even a few of the students.”

“Well, you can see why. Maybe that sort of thing is more common in Boston -”

“It isn’t.” Jon cuts in. “Up there, they say marriage should be between an alpha and an omega. It’s God’s law.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think it’s none of my business what two people do as long as they’re not hurting anybody.” Jon nods. “And that’s that.”

There’s a long silence where both of them scrape up the last of their food onto their forks and into their mouths.

“What do you think of God?” Jon asks. He’s not sure what answer he expects, if any.

Dan thinks for a moment, sipping more of his water. “I don’t know. I think in matters of the heart, people should listen to themselves.”

“Always?”

The question seems to throw Dan off a bit. He takes a long while to consider it, keeping eye contact with Jon. His eyes are so blue that Jon sometimes feels like he might drown in them if he looks for too long. (But why would he ever look for too long, anyway?)

“Well. Not always. Not in some cases. But most of the time.”

Jon wants to ask what Dan means but then the moment passes.

“Do you mind if I sit with you, for a bit?” Jon asks, after they’ve split the tiny slice of pie that the neighbor’s wife, Tanya, brought over to them.

Dan blinks at him. “In - in -”

Oh. Sometimes Jon reads or writes in the bedroom. Dan’s bedroom.

“On the porch.” He clarifies. “It’s going to get cold soon. We should enjoy the warmth while it lasts.”

Out in the quiet of the evening, Dan in his rocking chair, Jon in his usual spot on the porch steps, Jon hears an unusual sound.

“Dan, do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“It sounds like… meowing.” Jon stands up and beckons for Dan to follow him around the side of the house. Dan does so, not without looking a bit skeptical.

Around the side of the house, in a little dip in the ground beside a bush, mewling and meowing, is a mother cat. With tiny kittens!

“Oh, _Dan!”_ Jon exclaims delightedly. He leans down and puts his hands over his mouth, careful not to startle the creatures, who are currently acting as if there aren’t two humans peering over them.

“Well, would you look at that.” Dan says, taking his hat off and crouching down beside him. “The miracle of life. They couldn’t have been born more than a few hours ago. Good observation, Jon.”

“Thank you.” Jon thinks he might start crying. He’s an omega, he’s allowed to be a sap. Oh, they’re just the cutest things in the world.

“One, two…” Dan counts, “Three, four… oh.”

Jon follows Dan’s gaze.  There, in the corner, partially hidden by the leaves of the shrubbery, is a small beige and orange lump.

It looks very still. It’s eyes are closed, just like the others, but it doesn’t look like it’s moving.

All of Jon’s joy turns to ash in his mouth. Oh.

“Is it…?” Jon can’t say it.

Dan sighs. He puts a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “It happens, sometimes. There’s not enough room for all of them, and…”

Jon nods silently. With one shaking finger, he reaches out and brushes the soft fuzz of the little creature.

And something happens. The kitten _mewls,_ ever so soft.

Dan gasps beside him.

Jon giggles. And then he laughs, a little louder, a stray tear falling down his cheek. “I - I suppose they were just sleeping.”

“Yeah.” Dan sounds a little choked up too.

Jon looks at Dan. For a moment everything is quiet. He thinks, those kittens aren’t alphas or omegas. They’re just kittens. They don’t have to worry about that.

Dan’s smile fades. “Are you okay?”

Jon wipes his eyes. “Yeah. I’m just - bein’ a baby, that’s all.”

“Well, baby, let’s go inside and leave the mom to her business, okay?”

Jon nods and stands. “Will they be okay?”

“Nature willing, yes.” Dan always seems to either defer to nature or the will of the people. In this case, it’s nature’s realm.

As they’re walking up the porch, Jon picks up his notebook and a piece of paper flutters out.

“You dropped this.” Dan says, picking it up between two fingers.

Jon recognizes the writing on the page. It started as a poem about alphas and omegas, and alphas and alphas, and omegas and omegas, but it ended up as something different. More like a speech. For who? Jon doesn’t know.

Dan holds it out and Jon bites his lip, hesitating. He’ll never give Dan his notebook; that’s all of him. That’s Lovett’s closet tumbling out. That’s an open field.

But maybe Jon wouldn’t mind a dandelion or two, growing through the floorboards.

“You can keep it.” He says.

Dan smiles brighter than the setting sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Cool pantries were common in the 1800s. Dan and Jon probably wouldn't have been wealthy enough or lived in an urban enough area to afford an icebox. (http://americanhistory.si.edu/blog/ice-harvesting-electric-refrigeration)  
> 2\. Dunce caps were real, and have a really interesting history. (https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/the-dunce-cap-wasnt-always-so-stupid)  
> 3\. You didn't think I was really going to kill that kitten, did you? ;)  
> 4\. Remember to vote in the midterms! And to please leave a comment if you liked it and want another chapter. I love feedback!
> 
> Many thanks to maddie @everyonewillsee for betaing this for me.


	5. October

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Life was not intended to be simply a round of work, no matter how interesting and important that work may be. A moment’s pause to watch the glory of a sunrise or a sunset is soul-satisfying, while a bird's song will set the steps to music all day long." - Laura Ingalls Wilder

A cool breeze sweeps through the classroom and Jon buttons his jacket as he paces up and down between the desks. The little ones are working on multiplication tables, while he’s going over a civics lecture with the older kids.  
  
“The three branches of government are...” Jon whacks his ruler against the side of Adam Schiff’s desk. “Go on.”  
  
“Um.” Adam blinks blearily. He’d clearly been dozing. “What was the question?”  
  
Jon’s about to reply when there’s a knock on the door.  All of the kids look up.

Who could that possibly be? Jon mentally counts the children in the classroom. If there’s someone who is showing up this late in the day, they better have a good excuse.

“Excuse me, I -” Jon blinks as he sees the checkered shirt of a familiar Dan Pfeiffer. “Dan? What are you doing here?”

“Um.” Dan glances inside, where he sees at least thirty pairs of eyes staring at him curiously. “I thought — I thought now was about time for recess?”

At the word, all of the kids seem to sit up a little straighter. Jon feels the corners of his lips quirk up as the requests begin. “Yeah, Mister Favreau, now’s time for recess!” “Mister Favreau, you said you would let us out early if we finished all of our tables!”

“Oh dear.” Jon smiles. “Dan, what did you need?”

“You — you forgot your lunch.” Dan holds up Jon’s lunch pail. “I thought I’d bring it to you and…” He trails off.

Jon feels his face warm. There Dan goes again, being kind for no reason. Jon doesn’t understand. Dan’s funny like that. Sometimes it seems like he doesn’t like Jon at all; like Jon is the exact opposite of what he wanted when he ordered him (for lack of a better word) five months ago. He gets close to Jon and then pushes himself away; he stays up late talking with Jon and then refuses to engage Jon in conversation days later. He really seems to dislike when Jon brings up his life in Boston, like when he talks about Tommy. And, of course, there’s the fact that Dan does _not_ seem to like Jon’s scent during heats, if his incredibly convenient business trips with Mayor Obama are any indication.

But he’s here. Because Jon forgot his lunch.

“Come in, come in.” Jon steps back and gestures for Dan to cross the threshold.

Dan hesitates, looking down at his own boots, scuffed and slightly muddied. His shirt is untucked and his shirttails are sticking out. Jon is suddenly very aware of his own crisp white shirt, his shiny black shoes. His eyeglasses, delicate, without a scratch on the glass.

Jon understands Dan’s reluctance. The strange feeling of stepping into a world where you don’t think you’ll belong.

“It’s fine.” He smiles. “Class, this is Dan Pfeiffer. He’s my husband.” He doesn’t quite like that word, still, but there will be gossip among the students otherwise. “Everyone, say hello to Mr. Pfeiffer.”

“Hello Mister Pfeiffer.” They all chorus.

“Hi, kids.” Dan nods a bit shyly.

“Do we want to give Mr. Pfeiffer a little recitation before I release you all for recess?”

The older kids look a little bored with the idea, but the little kids, enthusiastic as always, are eager to impress.

Everyone stands and recites the poem Jon had written on the blackboard. A recent poem, from Emma Lazarus, written to raise money for the new Statue of Liberty in New York:

_Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,_

_With conquering limbs astride from land to land;_

_Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand_

_A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame_

_Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name_

_M_ _OTHER_ _OF_ _E_ _XILES_ _. From her beacon-hand_

_Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command_

_The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame._  


_"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she_

_With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,_

_Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,_

_The wretched refuse of your teeming shore._

_Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,_

_I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"_  


Jon looks over at Dan, teeming with pride. Dan’s clapping for the students, but he’s looking directly at Jon.

“What a lovely poem. The values of it are what make it count, though.”

“Yeah.” Jon smiles. He thinks of his own journey from Boston to Pennsylvania. That was nothing compared to the journey of the people who view America as the promised land.  People who want nothing more than to make a life here, have a job, raise a family.

Sometimes he forgets how smart Dan is. That he really could be more than a farmer, if the opportunity presented itself and he really wanted to.

He shakes himself out of the reverie that comes with looking at Dan for too long and getting lost in his own thoughts. “Okay, well, I promised — recess, everyone! Shoo.” He claps his hands and gestures towards the door.

The kids all file out as fast as possible into the cold sunshine, only pausing once Jon calls for them to grab their jackets first. Dan puts his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “I — I guess I’ll be going, then.”

“No, don’t.” Jon leans back against his desk. “Sit with me.” Five months ago, Jon would have blanched at the idea of spending any more time with Dan than absolutely necessary. He avoided him even in the house they lived in together. But now it’s different. Dan’s not the prison warden Jon thought he was, and that’s not just the familiarity talking. Somewhere along the way Jon has stopped wanting to escape him. He’s a friend.

Jon sits at his desk and eats his lunch, and Dan looks over the newspaper.

“I don’t see why you brought this into work with you.”

“It’s good for the older students. There are things that happen outside of this tiny town, you know.” He grins.

“I know! I just…” Despite his supposed protesting, Dan trails off as he begins to read an article on the front page. “When was this published?”

“I don’t know. A couple of days ago?” Jon shrugs. He doesn’t really read them for the timeliness. Nothing he can do about the war in Ethiopia from here, anyway.

“There’s… hmm.” Dan frowns. Jon sits up in his chair.

“What is it?”

“They’re discussing a new budget plan in Congress.” He raises an eyebrow. “Might involve cutting farming subsidies.”

Well that doesn’t sound good. “What would that mean for you?” Jon says, though he really means, _What would that mean for us?_

“Maybe nothing, depending on if it goes through or not.” Dan tilts his head slightly. “Just might have to tighten our belts, that’s all.”

Jon frowns. He thinks Dan might be doing that thing alphas do all the time, where they pretend like omegas aren’t smart enough to know the whole story, or that they shouldn’t worry their pretty little heads about it.

Dan seems to notice his concern. “Hey, don’t worry about it, okay? This is my area. I’ll let you know if we need to stop buying your fancy soap.”

Jon grins, because he knows Dan secretly likes that soap. In the back of his mind, he makes a note to read the newspaper article more closely. “Then what am I supposed to worry about?”

“Easy.” Dan jerks his head towards the open door, where they can both hear the sound of children laughing and playing. “Worry about them. I'll take care of the rest.”

“You sure?” Jon grins. “Because that door’s pretty squeaky, and there’s a draft coming through the windows, and…”

“Whatever you need.”

____

The rest of October comes with a blust of wind that carries with it crisp orange leaves and bright stars against a midnight blue background. The air becomes cooler and Dan starts bringing firewood in from the barn on a regular basis. Along with the sharp air comes other revelations: Dan knows how to knit warm, comfortable socks, Jon isn’t actually that bad at riding a horse now that he’s gotten some practice with it, and neither of them can bake pies worth a damn.

Oh, and apparently Jon has forgotten in his old age (his students’ words, not his) the most important time of October: Halloween. Honestly, one would think he had sworn in front of them the way they reacted when he had to be reminded what day was coming up.

Lovett offers no sympathy when Jon meets him at his drugstore later that evening. “How could you forget, Jon! What if a bunch of little ghosts and ghouls came out to you asking for candy! What were you going to do? Send them corn?”

“That’s what they’ll get if they’re stupid enough to travel two miles out of the way just to get to my house.” Jon scratches behind Pundit’s ears. She’s gotten fluffier as the weather has gotten colder. Jon, sitting by the window, is grateful for the warmth.

“You’re teaching them. If they’re stupid, it’s your problem.” Lovett grins and gets down from his perch on the counter. “But in all honesty, I get why you’d put it out of your head. I mean, it’s Halloween, so kids need to come throw eggs at my store —”

“Tonight’s Mischief Night.” Jon informs him. “Not Halloween.”

“Oh! That explains it! It is, indeed, mischief they are doing, when they vandalize my store! I tell you, once I catch one of those little rascals in the act —” As if on cue, a loud _splat!_ comes from the side of Lovett’s storefront Jon is not currently sitting at. When Jon leans over, there’s sticky residue along the glass, evidence of an egg being thrown.

Lovett’s eyes go wide and he storms outside. “As soon as I get my hands on you kids I’m reporting you to Sheriff Farrow! You hear that, you little shits! I’ll have you written up for vandalism and assault!”

The bell rings as he returns to the interior of the store.

“Excuse my language.” Lovett runs a hand through his hair and notices how Jon is laughing so hard that Pundit has jumped off his lap. “It’s not funny, Jon! Why don’t they take me seriously?”

“I dunno, maybe because the Sheriff tracks down actual criminals?”  
“They are actual criminals. They will give me shellshock, one of these days.” Lovett goes back behind the counter and leans over it, hands clasped. “So, you going to the Halloween jamboree, since you’re so keen on the most wicked of nights?”

“I don’t know.” Jon hadn’t really thought about it. He’d be just as content spending the night sitting in front of the fire, reading his book, while Dan sits the couch, possibly teasing him for how close Jon likes to stray towards the embers. “Dan hasn’t mentioned it to me.” A strange thought comes into his mind. “Hey Lovett…”

“Yeah?” Lovett’s back is turned and he’s scribbling something on a clipboard he has tacked up on the wall.

“Has Dan ever considered courting you?”

Lovett turns around, one eyebrow raised. “Uh, no. He’s married to you.”

The word _married_ makes Jon’s stomach do a weird flip-flop. “Yes, but before. Months ago. Before I met you.”

Lovett thinks for a moment. “No, not really. We’re friends, but it’s never been like that. And besides, he’s not really what I want. I’d like an alpha with a bit more… passion. Dedication.”

“Dan has passion. Dedication.” Jon doesn’t know why he’s defending the man. He’s his friend, but isn’t the whole point of this discussion to explain that maybe Dan would have been happier with Lovett?

“Yes, but a different kind of passion and dedication. I want someone… I dunno. Someone kind of dark and stormy, but doesn’t show it. Someone who can make me laugh…”

“I think you’ve been reading too many romance novels, Lovett.”

“You can never read too many romance novels, Jon.”

Jon smiles, thinking of something. Lovett notices, squinting. “What? What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

“Nothing, I just think I found out what I’m going to get you for Christmas.”

“Oh! Do tell.”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I’m just going to ask Dan.”

Jon rolls his eyes. “What makes you think I’d tell Dan?”

Again, as if Jon’s the protagonist in a play, on cue there’s the sound of the door opening. In comes Dan, taking off his hat and nodding at Lovett.  “Evening, gentlemen.”

“Evening, Pfeiffer. What brings you to this neck of the woods?”

“I thought I’d invite my husband to the fair down in the middle of town.” Dan smiles proudly and turns to Jon. “If you’d be willing to go, of course.”

Jon bites his lip. These days he feels funny whenever he spends a lot of time with Dan. Like there are butterflies in his stomach. He’s not sure if he likes the feeling or not. Not to mention that Dan seems to be hot and cold a _lot_ lately — he’ll take Jon out to something nice one day, and then avoid him the next, as if Jon’s rejected him or something. Jon has no idea. He thinks he’s being a pretty good friend.

He looks over at Lovett, behind Dan, and Lovett nods his head vigorously. “Okay.” Jon says. “I’d love to.”

Dan smiles at him and then seems to remember himself. “You’re welcome to come with us, Lovett.”

Lovett waves his hand in an almost overly casual fashion. “I’ll catch up later, don’t worry. You two go have fun, I’ll see you there.”

The fair itself is a lovely affair, organized by the Ladies’ Club along with the church. It features glasses of hard cider, jack o’ lanterns, corn husks everywhere, and children dressed as witches and ghosts. There are games, planks of wood used for cornhole, and apples bobbing in barrels of water. At a table on one end of the clearing in front of the courthouse is Priyanka, who drops pieces of hot lead warmed by the fire into a bucket of water and divines the career of young ladies’ husbands by the shape she sees. On the other end is a shooting contest, lead by the best shot in central Pennsylvania, Jason Kander. Someone brought out the glasses from the local saloon (Jon’s never been) and one can hear the soft sound of _clink, clink_ as people celebrate the beginning of the harvest season.  Jon takes it all in with a smile, even if he does fall flat on his ass trying to shoot a rifle.

“Don’t laugh at me.” Jon says, dusting himself off.

“I’m sorry,” Dan giggles, “I just forget you’re a city slicker sometimes.”

The sun sets, making everything look like it was dipped in orange and gold. Jon enjoys the crisp air as he eats his slice of pie and watches Lovett, across the dance floor, talk animatedly with Dan. On the dance floor itself, Katy Tur is a vision in a pretty purple dress.  Despite all of the dirty looks, Chris only has eyes for her.

That type of look is familiar, but Jon can’t quite place it. He’s still thinking on it when someone walks up to him.

“Wanna dance?” A man in his late forties with jet black hair and ice blue eyes says.

“Um, no thank you, I’m not really one for dancing.” Jon smiles amiably.

“Aw, c’mon, just one dance.” He extends his hand. “Paul Ryan.”

“Jon Favreau.” Jon thinks back to one of his first conversations with Lovett, how Lovett had said that even though Ryan wasn’t very nice he was very pretty.

“Well, I have to say, Jon Favreau, you look absolutely stunning tonight.” Ryan leans forward a little. “You know, I’m surprised, town small enough, you’d think the milkman would know everybody.”

“Well, I live on a farm, so.” Jon feels uncomfortable but he doesn’t quite know why. He likes the attention — he hasn’t gotten romantic interest in ages. But he doesn’t quite like where it’s coming from. Something about this man rubs him the wrong way.

“What do you say I take you a little out of here, and you can tell me more about your farm? Maybe under the stars?” Ryan finishes his glass of cider. “Of course, that is, if you don’t want to dance. Trust me, you’ll like it.”

Jon doesn’t know how to decline in a more explicit way than saying _no thank you_ , but Ryan isn’t leaving.

“Listen, I really should be getting back to —”

“Ah, Jon, I see you’ve made a friend.” Dan is at his side, suddenly, like he always seems to be these days. “Paul, I see you’ve met my husband.” There’s a strained note to his voice. Jon turns and sees a matching tight smile on his face.

Jon feels the butterflies in his stomach turn into a swarm. On one hand, Jon is glad Dan is there, because he was uncomfortable. On the other hand, who is Dan to decide who he can and can’t get attention from? Why does Dan _do_ that? Dan doesn’t even like him that much. He’s so moody. Jon bets a large amount of money — maybe a hundred dollars — that when they go home tonight, Dan is going to give him one of those strange looks with his big blue eyes and then curl up on the couch with his back facing the fire.

“Your husband?” Paul looks again at Jon, his eyebrows raised. “Well, I should have known an omega as pretty as you in this town wouldn’t be single.”

“I suppose you should have.” Dan says. His voice is low and darker than Jon is used to. It sends a shiver up his spine.

“Then again, you certainly don’t seem to be too concerned with what company he keeps.”

“That’s his business. However, I take issue in this particular case.”

Something strange happens. Dan takes a step forward and he seems to get — taller, almost. Bigger. Not literally, but whereas he normally slouches a little, has an easy smile on his face, here he seems to puff himself up, stands up to his full height. Jon can only stand and watch the hard muscles in the line of his back, the lamplight illuminating the peach fuzz of his hair and the soft brown of his eyelashes. His big hands are on his hips, thumbs tucked into the loops of his trousers.  The autumn colors emphasize the cool clear blue of his eyes, which are steely and defiant. He looks calm and confident, a fortress being built right before Jon’s eyes. Or maybe it was always there and Jon is only noticing it now.

It’s like watching a flower in bloom. Jon feels his face get warm. What exactly is happening here?

Dan and Ryan stare each other down for a moment, and for a split second Jon thinks they might exchange blows. But eventually Ryan backs down and lowers his head. Jon wonders vaguely if this is how alphas interact. Is this how alphas interact? Alphas are so weird.

“Well, I hope you two have a lovely night.” Paul says, blinking and scratching his nose.

“And you as well.” Dan says coolly.

Ryan turns around and walks away, only stopping to bump into Chris Hayes. He mumbles something in Hayes’ direction and Hayes stiffens, but merely tips his hat and walks away.  Jon doesn’t like the look they exchange, though. It reminds him of storm clouds, gathering on the horizon.

Dan and Jon stand together, leaning on the fence at the edge of the dance floor, until the tension is broken a few minutes later when Lovett throws a glass of hard cider into Paul Ryan’s face.

Dan grins at Jon. “You wanna head home? I think we’ve seen enough drama tonight.”

“Sure.”

It’s only once they get home that the mood sours slightly. Dan, settling the horses in for the night, turns to Jon in the doorway and says, “I want to apologize.”

“Apologize for what?”

“My behavior, earlier tonight. I… shouldn’t have burst in like that,” Jon’s about to say _it’s fine_ when Dan continues, “but you don’t want to make friends with Ryan. He’s not a good guy.”

Jon knows that one of his flaws is that he’s independent to a fault. However, the knowledge of that flaw doesn’t stop him from arguing. Maybe it’s that Jon doesn’t feel like he’s gotten any romantic attention from a good looking man in years, certainly not since he moved in with Dan. Maybe it’s because Jon’s an omega and that means never knowing fully what’s happening when two alphas face off like that. Or maybe it’s because he knows Dan is going to ignore him tomorrow, like he always does whenever they do something together. “Ryan’s the milkman, how bad can he be?”

“Even milkmen have off hours. And he’s just not a good guy, okay?”

“What about him is so not-good? He seemed friendly enough.”

“It’s not necessarily him, it’s who his friends are.  He hangs out with some… less than friendly folk. Like Steve Bannon. And who your friends are can often say a lot about who you are.”

Jon sighs. Lovett and Dan have mentioned Bannon before, but never in detail. Jon _hates_ when betas and alphas keep secrets from him; it makes him seem small, like he’s not equipped to handle things for higher-status folks. Well, he is. “I can take care of myself.”

Dan looks up at him with a strange, unhappy expression. “I know you can. I didn’t mean it like that.” He walks past Jon, brushing his shoulder even though the barn door is large and there’s plenty of room.

“Then what do you mean?” Jon follows him out into the yard, watches as Dan stops and starts to unbutton his shirt. “You have to talk to me, Dan, I need to know the facts before I can make a judgement!”

Dan, in the same fashion he’s done a million times before when heading directly to bed, strips off his shirt right out in the open, seemingly unbothered by the cold October air. Jon gets that. He feels red-hot, too. Maybe he has a heat coming on. It would explain why he’s so fired up all of a sudden.

“Look.” Dan deflates a little, as though someone has placed a heavy weight on top of his shoulders. “I had a really nice time tonight, okay? I just… He’s not a good guy. Please trust me on that?”

Jon wants to be mad at Dan. He really wants to. But he can’t, not when Dan is standing there, literally and figuratively exposed and vulnerable. And his eyes are just… too soft, and too blue for anyone to say no.

“Okay.”

Dan gives him a small smile that looks simultaneously relieved and sad. He turns and heads in, leaving Jon alone in the crisp air, with only the hooting of a night owl for company.

Jon stays out for a moment, taking in the freshness of the air. The quiet that he never experienced in Boston. There are a lot of things he didn’t experience in Boston.

When he goes inside, Dan is just where Jon thought he would be — lying on the couch, a blanket bunched around his waist, his back facing the fire.

Jon thinks of Paul Ryan, and how he had wanted to take him out to talk underneath the stars. The freckles on Dan’s back and shoulders look a little like stars, from where Jon can see them in the flickering firelight, along with the movement of his shoulder blades as he shifts.

Jon feels strange and uncertain. He wants to say something, but he doesn’t quite have the words. He walks past Dan and into his bedroom, closing his door with soft _click._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Emma Lazarus' "The New Colossus" was written in 1883 to raise money for the construction of a pedestal for the Statue of Liberty. It remains influential to this day. Immigrants are good for this country! https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_New_Colossus  
> 2\. The first Italo-Ethiopian war, fought from 1895 to 1896, resulted in an Ethiopian victory in an era of European expansionism. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/First_Italo-Ethiopian_War  
> 3\. Halloween parties back in the day were wild and pretty spooky. http://www.iskullhalloween.com/victorianhalloween.html  
> 4\. The best way to enjoy the second half of this chapter is to listen to the back to the future 3 soundtrack, particularly the tracks performed by ZZ top.
> 
> Much love to tveitor08 for betaing this chapter. pls leave comment. vote in midterms!


	6. November

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "We'd never get anything fixed to suit us if we waited for things to suit us before we started." - Laura Ingalls Wilder

Jonathan Favreau would very much like to be planning a lesson about the upcoming election season. It’s important to educate children about the democratic system of the country that they live in. Or, if that wasn’t suiting him, he could talk about the opening of the first modern Olympic games in Greece, or the exhibition of the new X-Ray machine in New York, or any number of important events happening throughout the world.

But that is not what Jonathan Favreau is going to talk about this upcoming week. Instead, Jon is going to talk about sex.

He’s regretting it already.

“I knew this would happen.” Lovett tells him, pointing his paintbrush at the spot in the windowsill where Jon’s sitting with his notebook. “I knew you wouldn’t want to do this when it came right down to it, and yet? Nobody listens to old Lovett, sitting in his drugstore, gaining wisdom by watching the world go by…”

“Alright, alright, I get it.” Jon laughs. “I’ll stop bellyaching. But the professors in Boston all said that this would be a good thing to add to my curriculum.”

“Yep! And this is what happens when you run around with the liberal elite, Jon!” Lovett’s voice is filled with mirth. “You get filled with all of these twisted ideas, and you turn into a deviant.”

“Hush, you’d love it up in Boston.”

“I probably would.” Lovett smiles. “So tell me more about this book you’re reading.”

“It’s just something one of Dan’s friends lent me for my class.” Jon holds it up; the front cover reads _Status and Sexual Development_ and features three butterflies sitting in a flower bed. “It should have enough information here for me to answer kids’ questions.”

“That oughta be embarrassing.”

“Sure, but it might stop them from…’’ Jon can’t quite say it. He knows he probably should, given that he’s going to be saying much worse things in the coming days, but he still can’t. “Having an accident.”

“Maybe you can educate yourself a little.” Lovett smirks, more to himself as he finishes scripting a blue _S_ on his sign, so that it more brightly spells out _LOVETT’S._ “God knows a married man like you shouldn’t be asking me so many questions. The neighbors might start rumors.” He pretends to look to either side of him as if someone’s watching. “I know that Mr. and Mrs. Hannity are real gossips.” He waves his paintbrush around for emphasis.

“Stop waving that thing around!” Jon laughs and pretends to dodge imaginary paint. “Why don’t you do this outside?”

“Because it’s cold, Jon!”

Jon nods in acknowledgement and thinks of the warm fire that will almost definitely be waiting for him at the house. “If you don’t want me to ask questions, Lovett, I’ll stop. But it’s not like you know any better than I do. You’re not married.” In fact, Jon is the one who’s married. Technically, Jon should be the one who knows all about these types of things.  But it makes Jon feel funny to think about those sorts of things so he doesn’t like to think about it at all. It’s more like when he was back in Boston with Tommy, and the two of them were figuring things out together, looking up salacious passages in books, asking questions of the older alphas in school.

“Well, I mean… I do know more than you do.” Lovett, his back turned to Jon, sets down his paintbrush.

Jon pauses and looks up from where he’s skimming through his book. “You do?”

“Yeah.” Lovett says simply. “I do.”

The thing about betas is that it’s unclear where they stand in the social order. It’s almost impossible for an omega to find a spouse if it gets out that they’ve lost their virginity before marriage. That chastity is important, in ways that Jon doesn’t fully agree with. He didn’t like the idea even when his mother told it to him as a little kid. A person can’t be impure. It doesn’t matter who they’ve touched.

On the other hand, alphas are often silently applauded for losing their virginities long before they get married. That never made any sense to Jon; wouldn’t that mean that, unless they did something taboo like sleep with another alpha, they’d be having premarital sex with an omega? Why would the omega be blamed and yet the alpha be rewarded? In all of the books that Jon’s read, the omegas are always chaste; but the alphas are always experienced. As Lovett would say, the math simply doesn’t add up.

Jon suspects that Dan’s not inexperienced. He doesn’t know why he thinks that. Maybe it’s how comfortable Dan seems to be with undressing while Jon’s in the room. Back turned, but not shy or hiding. Then again, maybe that’s just how alphas act.

“Well,” Jon tries to pick up after the awkward silence, “that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

Lovett gives him a pointed look. “Don’t be foolish, Jon. Just check in that book of yours. It means I can answer your questions, yes, but…” He shrugs and scratches his nose. A little bit of blue paint stays on his cheek. “Not exactly going to get me a husband anytime soon. Or ever.”

It feels sudden, but at the same time it feels like Lovett is saying something he’s been meaning to say to Jon for a while.  Jon feels a rush of sympathy for his friend. As much as Jon hated coming here — dreaded it, even — he can’t imagine what it must be like to go home to an empty house every night.

The thought is replaced with righteous anger. “You can get a husband.”

“Jon, I don’t need to hear how even though I’m damaged goods -”

  
“You’re _not_ damaged goods.” Jon sets his book down with a firm thud. “I don’t want to hear that. You’re a good man, Lovett. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Lovett stares at Jon for a long, long while, smiling in a melancholy sort of way. “Those kids are in good hands, Jon.” He grins. “As much as I’d hate to admit it.”

“Do you have anything you want me to say to them?” Jon’s not a beta. Sure, he faces his own troubles — some people call it _discrimination,_ which is a word that makes Jon think of courts and justice and things he can only hope to take part in someday — but betas have their own problems. Stuck in the middle, with no real community except each other. They’re not even rewarded for their ability to have children, the way omegas are.

Lovett thinks for a moment. He goes over to a tall glass of water on the counter and stirs his paintbrush in it. Jon watches the clouds of paint puff up in the water, mixing with everything until the liquid is a clear blue. Jon is looking out for blue a lot these days; it’s a welcome splash of color in the greys and browns of chilly November.  Blue reminds him of good things; Lovett’s store, Tanya’s blueberry pie. Other things, too, that he can’t quite name. It’s like the words are on the tip of his tongue but he can’t reach them.

“Tell them,” Lovett says slowly, “that they shouldn’t try to act like they’re a different status than they are.  That however they’re born is how they’re meant to be born. And that sex is icky and strange and,” He throws a suggestive grin in Jon’s direction, “while it might be different than how it has been described to you in books, depending on who you are, that doesn’t mean it can’t be nice. And in the end, it’s about love, isn’t it?”

Jon can’t stop himself from asking the question. “Lovett… the person you…” How to word this delicately? “You answered your questions with… did you love them?”

Lovett doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah. I did.”

Jon spends the rest of the night feverishly reading through his book. He grabs a pen and ink from the drawer Dan uses to hold various odds and ends — funny how it always seems to contain coconut oil; what does Dan need that for, anyway? He doesn’t cook anything nearly that complicated — and underlines phrases he thinks will be particularly important.

Dan comes home and Jon keeps reading; doesn’t even look up when the other man greets him. “Mm.” He says, and turns a page. Who knew sexual development could be so interesting?

Dan makes chicken pot pie for dinner; one of Jon’s favorites. Jon only just remembers to thank him before going back to his book.

Finally, Dan’s curiosity seems to have gotten the best of him. “Um. What’re you reading?”

“Sexual education.” Jon says. “It’s for a class I’m planning on teaching. Well. A lesson. Hopefully I’ll just need one.”

“You’re going to teach your students how to have sex?” Dan asks incredulously.

“No! I’m just going to answer their questions. Like, what happens during a heat, and things like that. So they’re not confused when it happens to them. If it happens to them. The book has been very helpful.” He tilts his head. “Well, except…”

“Except what?”

“Nothing.”

Dan shifts in his seat. “You can tell me. I’m not going to be offended.”

“Well…” Jon closes his book. “It’s very… alpha centric.”

“How do you figure?”

“I mean, it talks a lot about alphas and scents and what they’re supposed to do about an omega and how to, um, sleep with an omega, but it doesn’t say much from the actual omega’s point of view.”

“Well, shouldn’t that be enough?”

“No! Of course not!” Jon can’t help but get a little heated. “An omega’s heat is much different than anything an alpha experiences, and it can be scary if you don’t understand what’s going on! I mean, how is someone who doesn’t have any education supposed to understand what’s happening to them or how to take care of themselves when they feel overheated, or feel an ache —” He cuts himself off. Shit! He’s said too much.

“What ache?” Dan asks. He blinks at Jon innocently.

Jon does _not_ want to talk about the ache. The overwhelming, desperate urge to be filled, to be knotted; the ache to be taken into the arms of someone warm and strong and for that person to take care of you. Jon can’t count how many times he’s squirmed on his own bed, his fingers high inside him, almost close to tears because it’s good but it’s not enough, it’s never enough, when you’re in heat all you want is for someone to love you, take care of you, fill you up and satisfy the frantic energy thrumming under your skin. Dan is blessedly absent when Jon’s in the worst of his heat; so he doesn’t know. But even if he were, he’d never understand the feeling of being surrounded by your own scent, of wrapping a hand around yourself and thinking of strong arms and rough hands, and coming at the thought of blue, blue so deep you could drown in it —

Jon doesn’t want to talk about that. How easy it is to lose yourself in a heat. Forget what you do and do not want.

“Just. It hurts, sometimes.”

“Oh.” Dan frowns. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He moves the book out of the way and leans in. “Don’t worry about it.”

Lying in bed that night, Jon thinks about when he was the age of some of his older students. How confused he was; how scared he was that he wasn’t like the other kids. He wasn’t like Tommy, he didn’t recognize other scents like Tommy did.

Imagine his surprise when Tommy recognized _his_ scent.

Jon sometimes wonders what life would have been like had he been able to marry Tommy. If maybe they would have gone further than hesitant, shy kisses in an empty classroom in Boston. But Tommy was engaged as soon as he finished school, to a woman that he said he loved, even if Jon didn’t believe him.  And by the time the engagement had been broken off, Jon had already been promised to someone else.

Jon isn’t as sad about that now; but he still thinks about Tommy. They don’t talk about those sorts of things in their letters; it brings up too many bad memories. It had caused a scandal, when Tommy broke off the engagement; Tommy had sat out on the roof of the building he and Jon’s families lived in and had predicted he’d never get married after all.

“No one, beta or omega, will want me after they hear how I hurt that girl’s feelings.” Tommy said. “I couldn’t marry her, Jon. I just… couldn’t live in a marriage without love.”

“I know the feeling.” Jon had said distantly. He wasn’t really listening at the time; he was thinking about another loveless marriage in his future.

“But… you know, it just…” Tommy sighs. “It’s dawning on me that this is who I am, now. I’m damaged goods.”

Huh. There’s that phrase again. Jon doesn’t know if he’d want to marry Tommy, in another world where he isn’t already married. But he doesn’t live in another world; and besides, he’s pretty happy here. Even if the idea of marriage still makes him feel strange.

All of that aside — Jon has an idea.

He falls asleep with a smile on his face.

____

Jon thinks of blue a lot, lately. But today he’s not thinking of blue.  No, today he’s seeing red.

Normally Jon doesn’t go out when he’s in heat. It’s difficult to, both because his body is full of cramps and hot flashes and his head feels like it’s full of cotton balls; and because he very much wants to stay in bed and jerk off until he’s even somewhat satisfied.

But today isn’t the day to think about himself.

Leo is the one horse who Jon feels comfortable around, and who feels comfortable around Jon. Jon reassures himself of this fact when he approaches the animal to get the buggy set up. “Please,” he tells the creature, “please work with me, here? I need to get to the church in a hurry, and I can’t do it if you decide to disobey me.”

Leo neighs at him but appears to be agreeable.

The town hall had only been set up a week in advance, as part of Mayor Obama’s reelection campaign. People will be talking about all sorts of issues. There will almost definitely be a discussion of status rights, of budget cuts, and of whatever nonsense is currently happening in Washington. And, of course, Dan will be there.

Jon’s not stupid. “Business trips.” Business trips, Jon’s eye.  Honestly, who does Dan think he is? Does a small town’s mayor even travel as much as Dan’s claiming they do? Jon appreciates and even admires that Dan is willing to work with the mayor solely out of a duty to one’s community and an urge to make the world a better place, but still. If he wanted to be out of the house while Jon’s in heat, he could have just said so.  At first, Jon liked that Dan wasn’t there. Sometimes he still does, because then he can make as much noise as he likes without fear of being judged. But lately it hurts to see Dan grab his hat and coat. It feels like some sort of rejection. Jon knows that his scent is strong; all omegas’ scents are strong during their heats. But is it really so bad that Dan can’t stand being around him during the worst of it? What if Jon had an emergency? Or what if Jon just wanted someone to talk to? The fog of a heat makes everyday activity difficult sometimes, but Jon isn’t an animal during that time; he still can hold a conversation.

I hate heats so much, Jon thinks on his way to the church. They don’t let your thoughts line up; everything comes out all at once in a garbled mess.

Luckily, Jon brought notes to this particular meeting. He knows that Mayor Obama will be answering questions after he delivers his speech; that’ll be his moment.

“Go faster…” Jon urges the horse pulling his little buggy along. “I’m late.”

The church is packed, filled with women in cloth dresses and men in everything from clean black suits to dingy flannel. It’s hot inside, even though it’s quite cold outside. Jon looks around and he can even see that one woman is fanning herself with a japanese-style fan. The pews are filled, some people standing up on the outside aisles. There are also chairs towards the back, near the vestibule. The mayor is up front, hands moving animatedly as he talks.

Jon looks to the left of him, and there, sitting in the last pew with just enough space for someone else to squeeze in, is Dan.  Who is looking directly at him with a shocked expression.

Jon sighs. Dan isn’t going to make this any easier.  But he has to do this.

He nudges past the other people standing in the aisle and squeezes himself next to Dan, squirming a little. Heats make him restless; he doesn’t like to sit still.

Dan doesn’t looking at him. He keeps his eyes on the mayor as he hisses, “ _What_ are you doing here?”

“Same thing you are, participating in democracy.”

Dan closes his eyes in frustration. He leans in to whisper in Jon’s ear, and Jon feels a shiver run up his spine. “You’re in heat.”

“Yeah, and you’re not on a business trip. Any other obvious things you want to state?” Jon was told once by a college friend that he’s a brat during his heats. Well, maybe that friend was right.

Dan’s mouth is a hard line. He does _not_ look happy to see his husband. “Jon, you’re in heat, why are you here? You should be at home.”

“Why are _you_ here? Maybe you should be at home.”

“I’m here,” Dan glances around to make sure no one’s eavesdropping, “because farming subsidies are being cut in Congress and I’m asking the mayor what exactly he’s going to do to make sure I can put food on the table and provide for my _husband.”_ He looks Jon dead in the eye when he says the last word. His eyes are bright and dark. “Do you remember the newspaper article I read to you?”

“I do!” Jon whispers loudly.

“Shh!” A stern looking woman scolds them from down the aisle. They both shift a little uncomfortably but continue talking.

“Clearly, you didn’t read the _rest_ of the article, because Congress is going to cut funding for education, and I need to make sure that my students can have schoolbooks and slates and chalk!” Jon grips his notes a bit more tightly. “I’m going to speak.”

“Jon,” Dan warns, “don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Why _not?”_ Dan looks at him like he’s nutty. “Well, maybe because everyone in this town and maybe the next town over can smell your scent and it’s obscene?”

“Oooh, I’m in heat, so scary.” Jon rolls his eyes. “It’s natural, Dan, you and everyone else should get used to it.”

They glare at each other for a moment but then look towards the front of the room, where the mayor is taking questions. The mayor is always charismatic, engaging, eloquent. No matter how fogged up Jon’s brain is, he can still appreciate good oratory.

Eventually, one man, a dark haired farmer (very obviously an omega) in a threadbare red shirt and worn overalls that Jon doesn’t recognize, stands and asks a question.

“Mr. Mayor,” the man begins, “My name is Ari Melber.  I am, um, unmarried, and have no children of my own, but I am — concerned, and I think we should all be concerned, about the cuts to education funding that congress is considering when they pass the budget at the end of the year. If you are re-elected as mayor, what actions do you believe you could take, or could inspire the community to take, to prevent congress from making those cuts to a part of our town that needs it most?”

Somewhere, swimming in the back of his mind, is the thought that Jon has been told to keep an eye out for an unmarried omega in town. But that’s not what’s important right now.

Jon gathers up his notes and takes a deep breath. Dan notices the movement.

“Jon,” he whispers, “you’re in heat. You look like a mess. Go home.”

Jon knows that he’s in heat. He knows he looks like a mess, red cheeks and shirt slightly unbuttoned, scent probably filling the room. He knows Dan’s probably going to be embarrassed, even angry. He doesn’t care. This is important. “I have to do this, okay?” He tells Dan, and then he stands.

“Mr. Mayor, if I may make a suggestion.”

All eyes in the room turn towards him. Jon feels his face get warm, or at least warmer than it already is, but he stands firm.

The mayor’s face softens upon seeing him. “Mr. Pfeiffer. Please, go on.” He sounds slightly miffed at being interrupted, but Jon soldiers on anyway.

“I am the only teacher at the schoolhouse in this fine town, and I am… outraged and very concerned about the cuts that Congress is considering. Education in school is the single most important aspect of a child’s development, aside from the education they get from their parents. With this in mind, I propose that the local government allocate a very small portion of funds for myself and a small group of concerned citizens to travel to Washington.”

The mayor raises an eyebrow. “To do what, exactly?”

“To protest, sir.”

The mayor looks thoughtful. “And what would that accomplish, exactly?” He says it like he knows, but he wants Jon to speak anyway. So Jon speaks.

“Sir, in order to make our voices heard, we need to speak directly to the people who need to hear us out. That means getting boots on the ground; that means protesting. I know it seems like a small, symbolic effort, but you and I both know that change is only made in government when the people’s opinion is clear. Even if it’s people from a tiny town in central Pennsylvania. Our founding fathers fought over a hundred years ago for us to be able to exercise our rights. That includes our right to assemble, and our right to vote.” Jon takes a breath. “My students are concerned about this as well; the older ones read the newspaper. The younger ones hear from the older ones.  I try to reassure them; but it is difficult to explain to them that the things they hold as basic norms, like bread in their bellies and schoolbooks in their hands, may be under threat because members of congress want to give benefits to people like Rockefeller and Carnegie. The only way to show Congress that those actions are not okay is to protest. Loudly.”

The mayor nods in understanding. “I will take that into consideration, Mr. Pfeiffer.”

Jon is once again very aware of everyone’s eyes on him. He swallows thickly and meets the mayor’s eyes one last time. “Thank you, sir.”

He sits down, the rest of the world becoming a blur of white noise as the town hall continues.

Jon doesn’t even need to look at Dan’s face to know he’s not happy. His hands are balled into fists, and his entire body is tense, like a string pulled taught.

Jon closes his eyes and tries to sort out his thoughts, but they feel like they’re all bunched together, like yarn tangled into knots.

When he opens them, Dan’s staring at him, shocked, almost awed. He’s probably horrified that Jon made such a show of himself. He’s probably very embarrassed. Jon knows Dan’s a private person.

“Let’s go home.” Dan says quietly as soon as the event ends. Jon wants to make a snide remark about Dan avoiding him while he’s in heat, but he also doesn’t want to make Dan angrier than he already is.

The ride home is bad. Really bad. If Jon wasn’t sure he was in the soup, in major trouble, before, he is once he gets in the buggy.  Dan refuses to talk the entire time, but he keeps _touching_ Jon, putting a hand on the small of his back, squeezing his shoulder, trying to grasp his hand. Jon hates it. He knows Dan’s embarrassed, but can’t he make it a little less obvious what he’s doing?

“Cut that out.” It’s started to rain, making the step off the buggy slippery, but Jon ignores the hand Dan holds out to help him off. “Stop trying to control me.” That’s what it is; that’s how all alphas are. They’re always trying to control the omegas around them. Jon should never have thought that Dan was any different.

“I’m not —” Dan begins to speak, but Jon feels all of his emotions rise up in his throat, fueled by the red heat underneath his skin, making his fingers shake.

“I get it, alright? I embarrassed you. But I had to do this. I had to, and the idea that you would care more about yourself and your reputation than the people around you, your community, is — I don’t even want to look at you. So just. Stop trying to control me. I don’t care if we’re married. This is important to me, and you can’t change that. I know you’re mad, but I honestly do not care right now.”

Jon turns and begins to walk towards the house, but Dan follows him.

“Jon —”

“Leave me alone.” The rain is coming down harder, now, making puddles of mud around them and soaking Jon’s clean white shirt.

“Hey, if you’re going to yell at me —”

“Go away.” Jon keeps walking. He's not in the mood to be lectured by an alpha.

“ _Jon!”_ Dan growls, firm and commanding. And damn Jon’s heat, damn his body and his tangled up thoughts for forcing him to stop.  Because when an alpha speaks in that tone of voice, you stop.

Dan grabs him by the wrist and turns him around, his shoes sliding in the wet dirt. The touch feels like fire crawling up Jon’s arm. Jon tries to focus on Dan’s face, on the drops of water sliding down his cheeks, on his extremely intense gaze.

“I’m not _mad.”_ Dan says. His voice is low and serious. “I’m _proud._ ”

Jon feels his eyes go wide, his lips part slightly.

Oh. 

“That was incredible, what you did back there.” Dan continues. Jon watches his throat move as he swallows. “That was a smart idea, one that the mayor should have heard.  That took a lot of courage, and I am… very proud of you for doing that. If I’m upset, the only thing I’m upset about is that you didn’t tell me first. I could have helped you, introduced you to the mayor. What’s important to you is important to me. I don’t give a damn if you embarrassed me. I’m not embarrassed. I’m not mad. I’m _proud.”_

Jon stares at him. He feels dizzy. The fog in his head is overwhelming.

Dan looks down at his fingers, wrapped around Jon’s wrist. He drops it like the contact burns him. “I’m going to put Leo away.” He says gruffly. “I’ll be in the barn, if you need me.”

Dan is going to leave. Again. Because he can’t stand being in the same room as Jon’s scent for more than an hour. Because he’s hot and cold, all the time. Because since Jon’s met him he’s made Jon the most confused Jon has ever been.

Jon nods mutely. He feels like someone’s lit a match deep within his chest. As soon as Dan’s back is turned, he turns and races towards the house, slamming the door behind him.

It’s the heat that makes Jon feel completely out of control. It’s the heat that makes him unbuckle his pants as soon as he’s closed the door of his bedroom and jerk himself off, feverish, with quick strokes that are more meant to satisfy than be truly pleasurable. It has to be the heat. Jon _hates_ this, hates how he feels so confused, hates that he can’t _think,_ can’t focus, not when he feels like he’s on fire, electricity running down his body and making him ache. His whole body trembles as he strokes himself, leaning his head back against the door. Jon lets out a broken noise and comes, fluid dribbling over his already damp hand and getting his fingers sticky.

It doesn’t help the frantic energy inside him. If anything, it makes it worse, drives him higher to the point of desperation.

Maybe it’s the heat burning inside his body that makes him feel this way. Or maybe it’s the fact that despite his attempts, Jon’s thoughts remain tangled up inside his head, leaving him confused and vulnerable. But either way it hurts.

Jon absentmindedly cleans up his mess with a cloth, and collapses onto the bed. The pitter patter of the rain on the roof continues, while lying face down on his bed, only comforted by the knowledge that he’s alone, Jon starts to cry without fully knowing where the tears are coming from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. "In the soup" was 1890s slang. for being in trouble. https://www.alphadictionary.com/slang/?term=&beginEra=1880&endEra=1890&clean=false&submitsend=Search  
> 2\. Sex Ed in the 1890s was not like this. Jon probably would have been run out of town for doing something as insane as teaching a sex-ed class. But real sex ed in the 1890s was super interesting! https://www.jstor.org/stable/366974?seq=1#page_scan_tab_contents  
> 3\. The richest men in the world in the 1890s included Andrew Carnegie and John Rockefeller. https://www.buzzfeed.com/hunterschwarz/welcome-to-the-good-life-richest-men-of-the-1890s?utm_term=.lmaEmwAVGB#.yqnqoRm8bx  
> 4\. Voting and protesting has changed government and allowed the people's voices to be heard since the 1890s. It continues to work to this day. http://faculty.weber.edu/kmackay/farmers_protest.htm  
> https://crooked.com/take-action/
> 
> Many thanks to tvietor08 for betaing this chapter. Remember to a) leave a comment if you liked it, and b) vote in the midterms!


	7. December

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "When Pa was at home the gun always lay across those two wooden hooks above the door... The gun was always loaded, and always above the door so that Pa could get it quickly and easily, any time he needed a gun." - Laura Ingalls Wilder 
> 
> Very mild content warning for seasonal depression.

Winter seems to come when Jon isn’t looking. Perhaps it comes in a gust of wind, colored with white flurries and blue frost. Jon makes sure everybody wears their coats inside at all times in the classroom, and assigns a student to tend to the fire each day. But it’s still hard to keep the cold from seeping into his bones, from leaving him with frost in his hair when he arrives at work every morning, the entire world dipped in midnight blue, long before the sun’s come out. 

December is different in their tiny town than it was in Boston. Something about it makes everything seem… Emptier. Or maybe it’s Jon that feels emptier. He’s always disliked the winter, but it seems particularly bad this month. Maybe it’s because it’s his first winter away from home. Or maybe he just fucking hates the cold. But something about this time of year makes him feel as empty as the wide stretches of land that he walks through on his way to school. Everything seems duller, less colorful. The town is hustling and bustling as usual - even more so in preparation for the cold nights to come - but Jon can’t bring himself to join in the clockwork motion of everything. His lessons are winding down as Christmas approaches, and his last heat ended recently, leaving him exhausted and cold. The first snowfall of the year doesn’t help, making everything on the ground as grey as the sky above. 

Jon can’t explain it, not even to Lovett. He just… doesn’t want to do as much, in the winter. He goes places unwillingly, spends more time in bed with the covers wrapped around him, only getting up to stoke the fire. He tags along for Dan’s errands, but only to stop Dan from giving him that concerned expression with his sad eyes that makes Jon’s stomach feel funny. He doesn’t talk as much on those trips, just pulls the wool blanket in the buggy around him and asks if they can make a stop at Ira’s bookstore.  He’s been asking repeatedly for books like Robinson Crusoe and Treasure Island, in the hopes that reading about warm places would warm him up. But the tactic doesn’t seem to be working.

It’s like the sun was giving him energy, giving him life. He feels like a sunflower, desperate to turn towards any source of warmth and energy. Oh, what he would give to see the yellow of a sunflower! But there’s nothing but grey and white in this town, as far as the eye can see. 

“I had an uncle like that, once.” Lovett nods. They’re both sitting over the hearth in the room above Lovett’s store - he’s closed early due to the snow that old man Biden claims is coming in a few hours. (Jon never used to believe his predictions, until they started being more accurate than Dan’s farmer’s almanac.) “Once the winter months came, he would go into hiding. Said he was hibernating, like a bear.” Lovett leans back in his rocking chair. His apartment is dreadfully small, but at the same time it has a certain coziness to it. Like anyone who gets to come in and listen to Lovett talk in front of the fire is automatically family.   
“I’m not a bear.” 

“I know you’re not. I’m just saying.” Lovett shrugs and takes a puff of his pipe. “It’s normal.” 

Jon decides that now is as good a time as any to take out the little piece of paper from his briefcase. “Lovett…”

“Oh no, I already went to school, you can’t assign me tables and homework.”

“Hush, this isn’t that.” He flips the small card in between his fingers. “Listen, I know it isn’t Christmas yet for a few more days, and you don’t celebrate anyway, but…” He passes him the card. “Here.”

Lovett looks down at it, his brow furrowed. “It’s an address.”

“Yes. It’s my friend Tommy’s address. He lives in Boston. We grew up together. Other than you, he’s my best friend in the entire world.” 

“What about Dan?” Lovett smiles cheekily.

Jon ignores the question, mostly because  _ Dan  _ and  _ best friend  _ don’t sound right together. He doesn’t know why; Dan is his friend, isn’t he? “Listen. I want you to write him.”

“You - you got me a pen pal for Christmas?”

“You’re damn right I did. And you’re going to love him, trust me.” Lovett still looks skeptical, so Jon leans in. “Lovett. You’re my best friend. He’s my best friend, too. You’ll like him. He’s smart and funny and… he’s damaged goods, too.” 

Lovett tilts his head, uncomprehending. “I don’t quite understand.” 

“Never mind. Just… write him, for me, okay? He could use another friend, too.” Jon thinks about Tommy, at home in the office of his law practice. In all of his letters he seems happy, but not fulfilled. Like he’s missing something; more than Jon, more than his job. Not the same emptiness that Jon feels, but an emptiness nonetheless. 

Well, Lovett’s the most fulfilling person Jon knows. This should help both of them. The two people who Jon loves in the least complicated of ways. They’re very different, but Jon thinks they could get along. 

After all, isn’t Dan very different from him? And they get along just fine. 

Lovett looks down again at the card. “Okay. But if he’s a lunkhead I’m going to drop him.”

“Deal. Merry Christmas, Lovett.”

“Merry Christmas, Jon.” The smile Lovett gives him is enough to light the smallest flame in Jon’s cold heart. A birthday candle in a coal mine, but still. It’s something. 

Harsh winds blow against his back as he walks home. It’s cold and it hurts the back of his neck and his ears, but it’s probably better that it’s pushing him forward instead of flying in his face. He passes the houses of now familiar members of the neighborhood as he walks past the residential area, before the beginning of long stretches of farmland. There’s Don Lemon’s house, with the big black dog running around in the front yard, chasing the flurries of snow that are coming down; there’s the house with green shutters where Mrs. Maddow and her wife live, and far back, a little off the path of the road, there’s Jake Tapper’s house, where he and his daughter live.  If Jon squints through the white snowflakes flying through his field of vision, he can see a small menorah in the window, glowing with six orange flames. 

Hm. Jake’s divorced, so he’s an unmarried omega, too, like Ari Melber. But he doesn’t act like one. Jon searches in the back of his mind.  He seems to recall that a strange man brought Tapper’s child to school one day, a tall man who didn’t speak any English. Was that Jake’s alpha?  Jon could probably ask Dan or Lovett, but he doesn’t want to spread gossip. Besides, it’s not really his place to question unconventional relationships, is it?

He passes that little house and then it’s just grey, grey, grey, as far as the eye can see. Jon hates it. It makes him miss yellows and pinks and blue sky. Goddamn, he misses blue skies. Green grass, too. He used to enjoy the dirt and red brick of Boston, but the green grass and wildflowers of their tiny town have grown in his heart as well as in his front yard. It hurts that just like the ones outside, the blossoms in his chest have gone to sleep for the winter as well.

When he gets back to the house Dan is outside in his big woolen coat, tying a rope from one end of the porch all the way across the yard to the barn. 

“What are you doing that for?” Jon calls over the wind. 

Dan doesn’t answer, just motions for them to go inside, tugging on the rope to make sure it’s firmly tied. When they get back inside he takes off his coat and hangs it up, making sure it’s dry enough that it doesn’t need to go in front of the fire. Jon immediately sheds his coat and shirt and sits, clad solely in his undershirt and pants, Indian-style directly in front of the fire. 

“It’s to make sure I can get back without getting lost if I need to go out there during a snowstorm. If the barn door opens, or something of that nature.” He goes to fix himself a cup of tea. “Now, God and Nature willing, you won’t ever have to, but don’t ever get yourself caught in a snowstorm alone, okay? Maybe it’s different in Boston, but here you could easily get caught out in the middle of nowhere and freeze to death. In a whiteout? It could happen sixty feet from your house - Jon, are you listening to me?” 

“Yes.” He isn’t. He’s focused on the fire, and is more preoccupied with wondering why the warmth from the fire seems to heat his skin but nothing else. 

He wishes, for the first time in a long, long time, that he was in heat. Not for the desperate ache of it; that he could do without. And not for the strange impulse that caused him to feel that strange rush of… something towards Dan the last time he was in heat. (Like an earthquake, throwing everything off its axis; Jon ignored it in favor of logic and reason.) But simply for the feeling that towards the end of his heats he feels pleasantly warm and comforted. 

“Jon, look at me.” 

Jon turns and looks up at Dan, standing near the dinner table and - huh. 

“Are those - reading glasses?” 

Dan grins. “Yep. I took your advice and went down to Kornacki’s for a pair. Now I can read your books, too.” 

Jon smiles. Dan loves to read as much as Jon does, but he’s only been able to read the ones with larger print. Jon’s been reading out loud to him, but he knows that Dan has other interests, and would like to dive into the large pile of books they bought from Ira’s. 

There’s some concern, deep in Jon’s mind, about the price of those glasses. Not that Dan would ever push it on Jon; he’s insufferable that way, insisting on Jon having the last of the coffee, the second helping of soup, even at his own expense. Jon knows that they’re not wealthy, nor will they ever be, and that’s okay with him. He also knows Dan will probably starve himself before he deprived Jon of the little things he likes, like his soap and his brown bread and butter. Is that Dan not thinking Jon can deal with tightening his belt a bit? Or is that Dan being kind? Jon doesn’t know. It’s difficult to read his eyes sometimes. But the glasses sure do make them look all the more striking. 

“They look lovely, Dan.” 

The smile Dan gives him is enough to make that little flame from earlier grow, just a little bit. But it’s not enough to last the entire evening. Before long he’s lying in front of the fire with a blanket wrapped around him, staring aimlessly at the flames while snow falls steadily outside. He doesn’t know what’s  _ wrong  _ with him. Yes, it’s melancholy, but it feels like it’s something else. Something not as deep in his soul. Something that’s missing, just underneath the surface. 

“Jon, if you sit that close to the flames you’ll catch fire.” Dan says from the couch. Jon tugs the blanket closer around his shoulders. 

“No I won’t.” He murmurs. 

He hears the sound of a book closing shut and Dan taking off his glasses and setting them on the side table. “Jon…” Dan says carefully. “Are you okay?” 

“‘M fine.” Jon mumbles. He squeezes his eyes shut and then opens them, as though he could open his eyes and he’d feel better instantly. 

“You don’t sound fine.” 

I don’t  _ feel  _ fine, Jon thinks. “I’m just. Whatever. I don’t know.” 

There’s a pause. And then, “It’s okay to feel homesick, Jon. I won’t get offended.” 

That’s it. That’s the feeling that he’s been unable to name, adding a weight to his already depressed mind. He’s homesick. Desperately, completely homesick. He misses his mother and his father, and even his brother, as much grief as Andy gave him. He misses the baby, and the holidays he spent in his red brick apartment. He misses the one time of year when his mom would take the time to bake a Christmas cake, and his father would talk about decorating a tree in his father’s - Jon’s grandfather’s - home, after Queen Victoria made it fashionable to do so. He misses lighting candles around the house. He misses presents, even if they were just fresh oranges, or a new pair of trousers.

Jon sits up and flattens his hair, which is sticking up a little due to the static from his pillow. “I’m… I guess I am homesick.” Don’t cry. You’ve never seen Dan cry, why should he see you cry? 

“Well, is there anything I can do to help?” Jon turns around, his blanket puddled around him, and sees that Dan is leaning forward thoughtfully.

“I guess I just… miss all the traditions that come around this time. Preparing for the winter, and going caroling, and eating my mother’s food.” Jon doesn’t want to sound ungrateful, but… “I guess there’s no traditions, here. Don’t you have something to do around Christmas-time, that you always did with your family?”

Dan thinks for a moment. “I guess… most of my traditions I don’t really do, because they’re not really fun without other people. And before you came…”

Right. Before Jon came, Dan was all alone. Jon hasn’t ever really given that much thought. His medium sized house, and his giant farm. All for one person, with Travis flitting in and out like an island in a vast ocean. 

No wonder he seemed so lonely when Jon first met him.

“Well, were there any we could do together? Just to…” Jon doesn’t know how to phrase it in a way that won’t make Dan feel too vulnerable. He knows that alphas generally don’t like showing their feelings. “Just to make us feel better?” He doesn’t know when he included Dan’s feelings in his own sadness. 

Dan looks at his hands, bites the inside of his cheek. Then he stands up and goes over to the little trap door at the corner of the kitchen where the cellar is. “Put on your coat and boots.”

Jon frowns. “Dan, it’s cold outside.” He says, as though that isn’t obvious by the seven inches of snow outside.

“Yeah, but there isn’t any wind, and it shouldn’t be too cold by the size of the snowflakes.” Dan’s voice is far away and disembodied in the cellar. Jon’s body screams at him to stay and sit there in front of the fire, sad and lethargic, but he powers through the feeling and puts on his coat and shorts over his pajamas. 

When Dan climbs back up the ladder, he has a small jar full of what appears to be orangey-pink preserves in his hand. He sets it down just to put his coat and boots on, and grabs two bowls and spoons from the cabinet

“What’s in the jar?” Jon doesn’t like to go down into the cellar. It’s cold and dark and sometimes he gets nightmares about the trapdoor locking behind him. 

“You’ll see.” Dan leads Jon outside onto the porch. 

It’s cold, but it’s not too cold. Big, soft looking snowflakes float down slowly onto a white sheet of snow that covers everything as far as the eye can see. It’s so quiet. Quieter than any other place Jon’s ever been before. It’s like the whole world has stopped for Dan and Jon.  No time. No space except here. Nothing but the two of them, in a tiny white world, witnessing the snow fall. 

The porch step is dry, so Jon and Dan sit down, pressed close together. If their elbows weren’t separated by six layers of clothing, they’d be touching. 

Dan scoops out sweet preserved peaches into Jon’s bowl, and then his own. “My mom,” he says, “used to do this when I was little. She said it was a little bit of summer in the middle of all the cold.”

Jon doesn’t think he’s ever heard Dan talk about his mom. He sounds so fond that Jon feels an ache in his own chest. Is it possible to miss someone you’ve never met and never will?

“She sounds like like a lovely lady.”

“She was.” 

They eat in silence for a moment, watching the snowfall and looking out far into the distance.

“Who lives in that house over there?” Jon points with one gloved hand. 

“That’s the Whitehouse’s farm.”

“I have their son as a student.” Jon nods. “And that one?” He mumbles through a mouthful of peach. 

“That’s, uh, Bannon’s. It’s usually abandoned, but. Stay off that path, will you?” 

Jon rolls his eyes but nods. He doesn’t understand why Dan and Lovett are so edgy about Bannon. He’s walked past that house dozens of times and nothing’s happened to him. “What about… that one?” He points out far, far, to a pinprick in the distance.

“That’s Chris Hayes and Katy Tur’s house. Wait!” Dan’s head jerks up. “Oh my god, I’m such a lunkhead. Hayes came over earlier today and called on you.”

“He did?” Jon blinks at him. He’s friendly with Chris and Katy, especially when they drop their little girl off or pick her up late. He likes them. They don’t take anyone’s guff.

“On behalf of his wife, who he says was at home with their child. They, uh,” he smiles, “they invited us for dinner, on New Year’s Day.”

“Really?” Jon raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah. You want to go?”

“I do.” He allows himself to smile. “I do.” Maybe the dark corners of his mind want to curl up in bed and do nothing, but the logical part of his brain knows that he’s going to be happier if he goes out and interacts with people. 

“Maybe, if we have a good time… it could be a tradition?” Dan’s voice tilts up in pitch at the end of his question.

“That would be nice.” Jon snuggles a little further into his coat and eats his final peach.  Now there’s just the sweet syrup at the bottom of his bowl. 

“This is the part that my mom taught me.” Dan leans forward and with his spoon scoops some of the clean white snow into Jon’s bowl. Jon, catching on, mixes the snow into the syrup and tastes it. It’s good. Cold, but not the kind of cold that hurts. The kind of cold that wakes him up.

“You know…” Jon looks over at Dan. “You’re kind of like a peach.”

An amused smile plays at Dan’s lips. “Why? Cause my head is full of mush?”

“No! ‘Cause…” Jon suddenly feels shy and giggly, like when he was a little kid in school talking to his teacher. “Cause you’re sweet. And your hair is kind of like peach fuzz.” Suddenly filled with a spark of fondness, Jon reaches up and brushes one gloves hand over Dan’s closely cropped hair. It really does look like the fuzz on a peach.

Dan’s eyes slide closed. A tiny smile crosses his face. His lips are stained pinkish-orange.

“Christmas is coming.” Jon says quietly. He doesn’t know why he says it. He’s not really thinking straight. He’s just happy that, despite the enormous cavern in his heart, there’s warmth in there. The flame is small, but it doesn’t flicker. It holds strong, as long as his friends are around.

“I didn’t… um.” Dan clears his throat slightly. “I didn’t get you anything.”

“That’s okay.” Jon takes his hand away from Dan’s hair and gestures out over the wide white expanse. “This is my present.”

___

The snow has melted, leaving behind wet, beaten down grass, and mud. The leaves are all gone from the trees, creating spooky skeleton-like silhouettes along the path to Chris and Katy’s house. But Jon doesn’t mind. He’s more used to the winter, now. There’s still sadness, lurking in the back of his mind, but he’s usually able to push it away. Dan helps, as does Lovett. He tries to stay active, even while Christmas vacation gives him time away from school. At least he doesn’t have to walk two miles in the cold every day.

Chris and Katy greet Dan and Jon with smiles. It’s strange, even Jon has to admit, entering a home of two alphas. There’s no one taking the traditional omega role. Chris takes their coats, but Katy brings them warm cider. Katy stokes the fire and calms down little Zoey when she fusses, but Chris goes to check to see that the bread is baking properly. Both of them sit in the living room and talk with Jon and Dan. Jon can remember countless times that his parents took him to a family friend’s house, and the omega member of the household would stay in the kitchen, patiently waiting until the alphas were done talking. 

A small part of Jon kind of admired that world, the one omegas created to have their own space where they weren’t given one before. Sometimes Jon thinks there’s still a place for that; for separate worlds. But he also likes this world that Katy and Chris created. One where two alphas can exist and no one says anything. Not in their house, anyway.  It gives Jon hope that maybe, someday, long after he’s gone, there might be two omegas living together, going to work, raising a family.

They sit and eat warm yellow rice and chicken glazed in sauce. It’s delicious and Dan and Jon tell Katy so. Zoey, shy and not used to seeing her schoolteacher in her home, hides in the doorway until Chris politely but firmly orders her to come sit. 

The conversation flows easily throughout the night. Jon hasn’t had wine in ages - Dan doesn’t drink, at least not when Jon’s around, and the unfamiliar taste of wine on his tongue spurs him to laugh and make jokes with Katy and Chris. Dan doesn’t hold him back, doesn’t seem embarrassed at Jon’s willingness to talk. Eventually the conversation splits off into Katy talking to Dan and Chris talking to Jon.

“I hear you’re bringing in some very liberal educational techniques.” Chris leans back in his chair. “I applaud you for that. It’s difficult bringing new ideas into a small town.”

“Well, it’s the children’s attention that I’m really aiming to hold. If the parents approve, then that’s just a bonus.” He looks over and winks at Zoey, whose eyes widen and she hides underneath her napkin. 

“Well, Zoey and Alice seem to love it.”

“Alice?”

“Jake Tapper and Jim Acosta’s daughter.” 

“Jim Acosta?” Jon tilts his head. He doesn’t recognize the name.

Chris opens his mouth to speak, but then his hand goes up to touch the bondmark on his neck. “On second thought, how about I don’t be a gossip.” He grins. “Best not to upset the missus, yeah?”

Jon looks down the table at Katy, who’s listening to Dan talk animatedly. She gives Chris a pointed look, then looks at Jon and smiles. 

Bonds are a mysterious part of marriage; Jon doesn’t have one and he’s unsure how they really work. He makes a mental note to do some research. 

They lean in and listen to Dan talk some more; the story Dan’s telling is reaching its climax when suddenly there’s a loud popping noise outside. A gunshot.

The whole table goes silent; Chris and Katy give each other a look and stand at the same time. Dan stands too.

“Zoey, go to your room.  _ Now _ .” Katy says firmly. Zoey nods, and, sucking on her thumb, immediately goes to her room. Jon gets the strange feeling that this process has happened before. 

He stands, and Dan gives him a look with dark, serious eyes. “Stay here.” Then all three of them head out to the front porch. Jon waits five seconds, and then he follows. 

Out on the vast expanse of the front lawn are four men. There’s a large, stout man with grey hair and a heavy looking rifle in his hands, who looks to be the leader of the group. To his right is a tall, thin looking man with dark brown hair and a plaid shirt buttoned up all the way to his neck. He also has a rifle in his hand. The man behind him is big, oafish, lumbering. He has hair the color of straw and he seems like he could break Jon’s wrist in one hand.

The fourth man, much to Jon’s surprise, is Paul Ryan. 

He pushes out in front of Katy, who’s whispering with Chris. Much to Jon’s horror, Dan is way out in front of them, in the yard, walking towards the group. 

“The rifle’s underneath the bed, in the lockbox. Go get it. Now.” He says to her, not taking his eyes off of the standoff that’s rapidly forming before their eyes. Katy nods and goes racing back inside.

Jon feels sick. He pushes past Chris, who tugs on his sleeve, and runs out into the yard, so he’s halfway between Dan and the house.

“What do you want, Bannon?” Dan calls out. His voice is loud and strong, but surprisingly calm. Much more calm than Jon feels; his heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest.

“Step aside, Pfeiffer, this isn’t your business. This is between us and Hayes.”  
  
“Well.” Dan puts his hands up as if to gesture to the space around him. “That leaves them outnumbered, don’t you think that’s a bit unfair?” His voice echoes in the silence of the open area. Jon swallows. His hands feel shaky. He keeps hearing the gunshot in the back of his mind.

“You and I both know this isn’t about fair. We warned them; folks around here have been saying they need to get out of this town.” 

Dan, confident to the point where he evidently has no concern for his fucking  _ life,  _ seems to shrug. “Well, folks have been saying the same about you since you robbed the Clinton County stage.”

That seems to make Bannon very,  _ very  _ angry, and he raises his gun halfway to point it at Dan. Jon feels his heart leap up into his throat. He’d never considered this; all of those times that Dan had warned him not to come near those sort of folks. He’d never considered that it might have meant that Dan’s life could end up in danger. Jon sees the image of Dan bleeding out onto the stiff, frost covered grass.  _ No, no, no -  _

“You raise that any further, Bannon, and I’ll blow your  _ fucking  _ head off!” Katy calls out. Jon whips his head back and sees her holding a large rifle on her shoulder, aiming it directly at Bannon. She doesn’t look like she’s joking around.  

The guy to the right of Bannon raises his gun and Jon feels like this entire situation is escalating far too quickly.  “Hey, whoa, whoa -”

Chris, back on the porch, seems to agree. “Hey! Hold on!” 

But it’s Dan that seems to get everybody to focus again. “Bannon! Look at me.” 

Bannon does so, albeit reluctantly. 

“Katy,” Dan holds up one hand at Bannon and talks back without looking at Katy, “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” He takes a deep breath. “Bannon. I understand you have a problem with them being there.”

“It’s not natural.  It goes against God’s law.” Paul Ryan pipes up. Jon glares daggers at him. How dare he even speak? Coward. To be so kind to Jon before and so cruel now.

“Maybe so, but they can’t control who they love, no matter how hard they or you or anyone else wants them to. And if it’s against God, well, that’s between them and God, no?” 

Bannon narrows his eyes. “I’m not here to discuss scripture. And it’s rich of you to claim to be a good man when you haunt the same places we do.”

“I don’t claim to be a good man. And that may be true, but…” Dan pauses. “There’s a child in the house, Bannon. She’s scared. And,” Dan glances back at Jon for an instant. “There’s an omega here. Do you really want to do this in front of him?” 

This is what Dan is good at, Jon realizes. He finds what’s important to people, and he emphasizes it. He reminds them what really matters. That’s what he does when he goes and helps mayor Obama. He makes sure that he knows what’s important to the people in power, and that the people in power know what’s important. 

Communicating, Jon realizes. He’s good at communicating.

Bannon looks at Jon for a long moment; everything stills. Then he lowers his weapon.

“I just want them,” he points back behind both Jon and Dan, “to know they’re not wanted around here.”

“Believe me.” Dan says. “They know.”

It’s a full ten minutes before they’ve gone far enough away for everyone to relax.  As soon as they’re all back in the house and Chris puts his gun back in the lockbox, Katy bursts into tears. 

“I’ll report them to Sheriff Farrow as soon as day breaks.” Chris says, holding Katy close. “They can threaten us all they want from jail. Figures that they’re too stupid to stay away from the town. Now that they’ve been seen they can be caught.”

“Do you want us to stay here for the night? In case they come back?” Jon says. Katy shakes her head. 

“No, you should get home. It’s going to snow tomorrow; you don’t want to get stuck.” 

Dan nods, and though Jon is still worried, it seems that the alphas have made a decision.

They ride home in silence. Jon clutches the hot water bottle that Katy had handed him, and thinks of the words that Dan had said to Paul Ryan. 

“That was brave.” He says, later, once they’re back at the house and wrapped in blankets in front of the fire. Dan has foregone his usual spot on the couch in favor of sitting next to Jon by the fire; neither of them can sleep. 

“Brave?” Dan chuckles cheerlessly. “Or stupid?”

“It can be both.” Jon doesn’t look at him. He focuses on the flames, and wills the warmth to spread through him, into his heart. It seems to work slightly better than it did a week ago. “Thank you. You’re good at talking to people.”

“I couldn’t do much else. I don’t like guns. I own one, but I barely know how to use it. I certainly don’t carry it around to friends’ homes.” He nudges Jon. “But I’m glad I didn’t get shot and leave you all alone. Would’ve been a pretty bad way to start the new year.”

“Yeah.” Jon closes his eyes and listens to the fire crackle. “I like this better.” 

He thinks again about what Bannon said to Dan; at the time his brain was clouded by the image of that rifle pointed at Dan’s heart. “Bannon said… he said that you weren’t a good man, because you hung out at the same places they did. What did he mean by that?” 

There’s a pause. Dan shifts and the blanket he has around his shoulders falls to his waist. He’s not wearing a shirt; unlike Jon, he insists on sleeping without a shirt, even when it’s freezing out. “I… um… you know the far side of town? Where I tell you not to go?” 

“Yes. If Bannon and his crew hang out there, I think I know why.” 

“Well…” Dan looks away. “There’s a saloon there, and sometimes, when you’re in heat, I… go there.” 

Jon straightens up. This is the first time Dan’s ever talked about what he does while Jon’s in heat. When he can’t stand to be in the same room as Jon, because Jon’s… distasteful, or whatever. Jon tries not to think about it. “I thought you worked with mayor Obama.” Or was that a lie? 

“I do. But I have to sleep somewhere.” 

“You sleep in a saloon?” Jon feels his heart ache in guilt. He’s been running Dan out of his own home! Then logic takes over. It’s Dan’s house. It’s his choice.

“There are rooms upstairs.” 

“Well… you can drink and sleep wherever you want.” Jon tries to see things from Dan’s point of view, as hurt as he is by the entire conversation. He used to love that Dan was far, far away during heats; but lately he’s been lonely. Dan’s his friend; why can’t he stay? “That doesn’t make you a bad person.” 

“It does if it’s… uh… a house of ill repute.” Dan’s eyes flicker up to meet Jon’s. 

Jon hears himself suck in a breath of air. “Oh.” He doesn’t even want to entertain the idea that comes with that admission. But shouldn’t he not care? He had said before to Lovett that Dan would never enter his bed. 

“You don’t understand. I’m not… sleeping with them.” Dan turns and looks at Jon, dead in the eye. “I’m not. But there’s - the head of the house there, the woman, her name’s Alyssa, we’re childhood friends. And… I talk with her, sometimes. But that’s all we do. We just talk.” 

Jon doesn’t know this Alyssa, but he’s immediately suspicious of her. Why does she get to hear Dan talk? What secrets does he tell her that he won’t tell him?  But he looks at Dan’s eyes and knows that whatever relationship he has with this woman, it isn’t unchaste. Dan’s eyes are clear and unwavering. He isn’t cheating on Jon. 

_ How can it be cheating if we haven’t done anything?  _

“You know…” Jon plays with a loose thread on his blanket. “If you want, you can… stay home. During my heats. It doesn’t make me… impure, or whatever.” Jon doesn’t know how to word it. He still doesn’t know what’s happening in Dan’s head. Maybe it’s a different reason than purity; maybe it’s about chastity, or something like that. Or maybe Dan just doesn’t like Jon’s scent, simple as that. 

The idea makes Jon feel as empty as the wide fields of Dan’s farm. 

“I don’t think I can do that.” Dan says quietly. Jon nods and tries to swallow the knot in his throat. His eyes sting. 

At the very least, though, Dan doesn’t leave. He doesn’t get up and move to his normal spot on the couch. He stays, his blanket wrapped around his waist. Jon’s own blanket is wrapped around his shoulders. Together, they watch the fire burn away, until the embers fade into dark orange nothingness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. While it wouldn't have been named back in the 1890s, seasonal depression is a real thing, and it can be more than just the winter blues. If you think you have seasonal depression and it's really getting to you, don't hesitate to reach out to someone. You're not alone!  
> 2\. I looked for a good peach preserve recipe from the 1890s, but I couldn't find one :( here are some other recipes: http://www.survivorlibrary.com/index.php/8-category/25-library-canning. Also, many thanks to the dear america series for giving me inspiration for this chapter lol.  
> 3\. Unfortunately, most real acts of gun violence in this country won't be solved through conversation. To help enact real policies to ensure that your state has sensible gun laws, consider getting involved with Everytown for Gun Safety: https://everytown.org/  
> 4\. "Lunkhead" was 1890s slang for a stupid or foolish person. https://www.alphadictionary.com/slang/L.html
> 
> Many thanks to tvietor08 for betaing this chapter. Remember to leave a comment if you liked this chapter, and as always, remember to vote in the midterms.


	8. Interlude: January 8, 1896

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Persons appear to us according to the light we throw upon them from our own minds." - Laura Ingalls Wilder

Dan Pfeiffer sits at the opposite end of the large table in Mayor Obama’s office, a stack of notes and papers in front of him. To his right is a small piece of fabric covered in blots of ink. To his left is a small pot of ink, and his glasses case. A quill is in his hand.

The mayor is on the other end of the table. He’s in a similar position, though his quill is in his left hand. A rush of letters came from the townspeople after his last election; he’s determined to go through all of them to see if there are any good suggestions.

“I’d rather do what I can here before going to beg in Washington.” He had told Dan. Dan had nodded and offered to help. And so the two sit, going through letters, occasionally marking things down in notepads, or scribbling something into the margins.  The tick of the grandfather clock in the corner is the only sound that fills the room, other than the scratch of quills on paper.

“It’s late, Dan.” The mayor looks up, his glasses glinting in the low lamplight. “You should go home.”

Dan pretends to have not heard the question. “This person says that they believe local funding should be allotted to rebuild the old opera house, so the children could put up plays and shows. It looks like Lovett’s handwriting. That doesn’t sound like a bad idea, if we could find the change for it.”

“Dan.” The mayor speaks again. “Did you hear what I said?”

Dan looks up and smiles sheepishly. “I did. I was kind of hoping I could ignore it.”

“Pfeiffer, do you know what you said to me after you voted for me?”

“Who said I voted for you?” Dan responds without missing a beat. A cheeky grin crosses his face.

“Very funny. You said to me that you voted for me because I have always given you good advice and that’s a skill you want in a leader. Someone who can tell people what to do with the confidence of knowing it’s the right thing to do.”

Dan rolls his eyes. “I don’t think I said it that eloquently, but okay.”

“Well, this is me telling you what to do. Go home to your husband. Go… do whatever it is newlyweds do.” He waves his hand. “You stay here too late. I feel guilty about it.”

Dan raises an eyebrow. “You were a newlywed once, sir. Unless you and Michelle just arrived on this earth as a set pair, like lovebirds.”

“Sometimes it feels that way.” The mayor chuckles. “But seriously. Isn’t your omega at home missing you in this cold? Jon?” He frowns. “Have I met him? I can’t quite place his face.”

Dan looks away and a shadow crosses his face. “You have, sir. He’s the one who spoke last month at the town hall.”

“Right. He spoke very well, it was a good idea.”

“I actually have some thoughts about that, sir, if you’re willing to hear them.” Dan sits up.

“Yeah?” The mayor slides his notepad across the table. “Write it down. Those are the things that are priority.”

Dan scribbles it down. The act is almost ritualistic; something the two men have done before. Ideas written instead of spoken; as if to prevent them from being jinxed.

“I suppose I should go home.” Dan glances out the window. “I just…” Then he shakes his head. “Never mind. I don’t want to bother you with the minutiae of my personal life.”

“Is something wrong at home?”

Dan looks up and bites his lip for a moment before speaking. “My husband - it’s his… time,” he nods so the other man understands the meaning, “and that means tensions are high, and when the only other person in the house is…”

“Is in the doghouse?” Obama nods in understanding.

“Something like that… It’s hard to have a conversation when…”

“When emotions are running high.” He nods again.

“Sort of. Sometimes the emotions are more on my end.” Dan looks down at his hands.

“Well, if it’s not a large argument - and it doesn’t sound like one, considering it can be affected by a heat,” the mayor smirks a little, “sometimes you just have to say you’re sorry and move on. Odds are he’ll say he’s sorry too.”

“He doesn’t have much to be sorry for.”

“Even easier, then. And… I’d say get him some flowers or something, but -” Mayor Obama looks out of the window, “I don’t think that’s really an option. So maybe just… be extra kind to him.”

“I will.” Dan starts packing up his things. “Have a good night, Mr. Mayor.”

“And you as well, Dan.”

The night is clear and cold when Dan saddles up his horse. He pats Leo and idly watches his breath fog up in the cold. There are two paths splitting out from the long dirt road to the mayor’s office. One goes down past the main part of town, eventually leading out to farmland, where Dan lives. The other goes to what could be seen as the only part of the town that could be considered less than respectable. Dan sits at the fork in the road for a solid minute until Leo whinnies, and he snaps out of his reverie.

He takes the path out to the far out of town, away from his home.

The saloon is dusty, the lamps clouded by cigarette smoke. Dan nods at Axelrod behind the bar and ignores the glares from the last remnants of Bannon’s gang. Without their leader, they’ve mostly fallen apart. Dan doesn’t even pretend to be displeased at the observation.

A pretty blonde woman looks him up and down as he gets to the second floor of the building where all the rooms are.  

“Hi, I’m looking for someone? A woman?” Dan asks. He’s aware of how stupid he sounds. But he’s used to that. The women around him in this place always seem to somehow make him feel out of place, possibly because this is _not_ his place.

“Does that woman look like me, perhaps?” She smiles at him, rouge staining her cheeks. Dan chuckles but shakes his head.

“Not tonight.” He says that every time he comes here. “I’m looking for Alyssa. She’s the madame here?” As if this pretty blonde doesn’t know.

The woman’s face falls for a moment but she jerks her head down the hall. “She’s in the back.”

Alyssa’s in her office, sitting at her desk. She looks like she’s about to deliver a rebuke to whoever’s bothering her when she sees Dan’s face. “Dan.” She gives him a warm smile.

Dan sits and watches the hem of her skirt brush against her ankles while she rummages around getting tea and biscuits.

“So,” she says once everything’s settled, “what brings you here?”

He rolls his eyes. “Same thing as last month, Alyssa. And the month before that.”

Her smile fades. “You still can’t handle it? No offense, Dan, but this is kind of what you’re designed to do, as an alpha.”

“Maybe that’s what makes it so hard. It’s - it distracts -” Dan looks up and away, taking a sip of his drink. “I just would rather not be in the room with him if I can’t think. Or focus.”

“And how do you know that he wants you to be able to focus?” A sly smirk crosses her face. “Maybe he wants you to fix his problem the old fashioned way.”

Dan chuckles cheerlessly. “I doubt it. It’s been nearly eight months. If he wanted something from me, he would have said so.”

“I suppose.” She sets her teacup down. “C’mere.”

He stands and goes over to sit on the couch next to her. She puts her head on his shoulder.

“I think he’s mad at me.” Dan says, quietly. “Sometimes I think… I think he’s happy here. But then I say something, and… and it’s like I can’t tell what he’s thinking at all. It’s like a big sign saying ‘Keep Out’.” Dan sounds a little choked up.

Alyssa takes his hand in hers and squeezes it. “Well,” she says quietly, “you’ve never been one to play by the rules, have you?” She has a small, secretive smile on her lips.

Dan looks at her, and for a moment, there’s something different in the air. A shared memory. A feeling of what was. And more importantly, what might have been. If they were different people. If they lived in different worlds.

Dan looks away. “I just want him to be happy.”

"Is that all you want?"

"... Yes."

“You deserve to be happy, too.”

“I almost always am.”

“Almost?”

“Yeah. But maybe I shouldn’t have even brought him here.”

Alyssa tilts his head with two fingers towards her, so she’s looking him in the eye. “Daniel. He doesn’t sound like a guy who would stay if he didn’t want to be here. And you’re not a guy who would force him to stay. So take comfort in that.”

He hugs her, tight. When he breaks away he looks a bit less stressed. “Do you… mind if I stay here with you for the night? I can pay you.”

“For you, babe, the only payment I need is your company. But I do need to finish my work.” She glances at her desk.

He nods, and as she gets up he settles down with his legs up on the couch, closing his eyes. She sits back down in her desk chair and begins to write again. The clock on her desk ticks, ticks, ticks away.

They remain in that position until the early morning, when Alyssa wishes him goodbye with a brush of her lips on his cheek.  Then he sets out, past where the paperboy is tossing out copies of Tapper’s paper, past where Lovett is opening his shop, all the way to the little house with the red shutters.

Once he gets Leo back and comfy in his spot in the barn, he walks to his own door and stops.

_Breathe, Pfeiffer. Focus. You’re fine. His heat’s over._

Dan takes a deep breath and opens the door.

“Hey, Jon, I’m back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little pause in Jon's POV for some of Dan's POV, which I'm sure is equally dumb because they're both dumb. Back to our regularly scheduled programming next chapter.
> 
> I miss Obama.
> 
> Cheers to maddie @everyone will see for betaing, remember to comment cause that's what keeps me going, and PLEASE remember to vote in the midterms!


	9. January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The wilderness needs your whole attention." - Laura Ingalls Wilder

“I have a surprise for you.” Lovett says. He’s stoking the little fireplace in the back of his store.

“Is the surprise an end to all of the snow? Or all of the cold?” Jon’s sitting in a chair right next to the warmth of the fire, but he still tugs his sweater closer around him. January has come with winds that cut like knives against one’s cheek, and snowstorms that blanket the world in enough white that a lamb could get lost and never come back from the fields. 

“Don’t I wish. All this snow is terrible for business.”

“Didn’t you say in the summer that all of the heat was terrible for business, too?” Jon smiles. He likes spending time with Lovett. Lovett is a spark of sunshine on cloudy, snowy days.

“It is. It’s all terrible for business. I have zero loyalty in this town. Truly, I am deprived.” Lovett grins. “Or at least, that’s what I tell myself every time I have to shovel snow off of the porch.”

“You’re changing the subject. Where’s my surprise?” Jon leans in and puts his knitting to the side.  Knitting has gotten a lot more difficult since he’s started making socks for more than his own feet. Dan has big feet. 

“It’s not here yet! It’s on it’s way.”

“Does it have anything to do with your pen pal?” Jon grins. He knows that the only thing Lovett loves to do more than talk is to write Tommy. He’s pretty sure Lovett writes him once a day, maybe twice. Jon writes Tommy all the time; he’s certainly noticed Tommy mentioning his new friend more than a few times.

He wonders if Tommy knows that Lovett has a huge crush on him. He hopes that doesn’t end badly. There’s enough drama in this town without the two of them going at it long distance. Not to mention that neither of them deserve to have their hearts broken more than they already are.

“It… might have something to do with that.” Lovett smiles secretively. He goes back to the big box at his counter and proceeds to continue stacking cans of creamed corn and sliced mushrooms on the shelf.

“If it’s another toy for the kids, you can keep it. Tommy wrote me the instructions to Canfield last month, and now I can’t get the students to stop playing it. I don’t think Eric Swalwell has read a page of Gulliver’s Travels.” 

“You’re too hard on them anyway. Children deserve to be outside, playing in the snow.” 

“Spoken like someone who spent many of his formative years looking outside, wishing to play in the snow.” 

“I’ll have you know I’ve read all of Gulliver’s Travels.” Lovett points a can of preserved figs at Jon. “Being a Lilliputian myself, I was offended at how we were portrayed.” He sets the last can on the shelf and hops up to sit on the counter. “It’s something special. I’m not telling you what it is.”

“Now you two are keeping secrets from me? I set you two up!”

“I’m friends with both you and Dan, but you keep things from me.” Lovett counters with a slightly haughty look, as though that’s ended the argument.

He’s right. Jon still tells Lovett nearly everything he sees and hears in this town — what Chris and Katy are up to, how old man Biden is doing, what Steve Kornacki is trying to invent in the backyard of his giant house. (Jon thinks it’s a time machine.) But while he talked about Dan to Lovett in the beginning of their friendship, nowadays there are some things he keeps to himself.  Not everything, but… Jon doesn’t really know how to vocalize how he feels about Dan’s sleepy, owl-like eyes in the morning, or the way Jon sometimes counts the whiskers on Dan’s face when he’s bored, or how Dan talks to himself when he’s calculating what their budget is going to be for the next month.

Those things are private; so private, maybe, that Jon doesn’t fully understand them himself. He doesn’t know if this means he’s a good husband, because he likes those moments. Maybe he’s just used to this world now. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything. 

He wonders if Lovett would find those private things in Tommy, if he ever saw Tommy in person. God knows Jon has little things about Tommy that he loves. He misses him. He should write him, today.

Hey wait a second…

“Did you just compare Dan and me with you and Tommy?”

Lovett whips around. “Uh, no. At least. Not in the way you’re thinking. Don’t read into that.”

“Too late.” Jon giggles. 

The walk home is windy and makes the snow already on the ground blow everywhere, but the sky is sunny and a shade of blue that Jon wishes he could reach out and put in his back pocket. He passes Don Lemon’s house and pets the little dog before moving on.

When he comes in, setting his hat and scarf on the hook beside the door, he smells a familiar meal cooking.

“Chicken pot pie?” He asks hopefully.

“Only because you asked so nicely.” Dan looks up from his book, a doorstopper that Ira pushed on him at Christmastime. “How was your day?”

“Good. Kids aren’t happy to be back at school, but I reminded them that they could be out in the cold shoveling snow and they seemed more keen on the idea after that.”

“You’re a good teacher. Come help me set the table?” 

“Of course.” 

They settle into an easy routine. Jon gets out the plates and Dan gets out the glasses, pours out water from the well and squeezes some juice from the one lemon they have into them. The kitchen is small, so there’s a fair amount of bumping up against each other as they go. 

Dan sets the pie down to cool for a bit, and then turns and gives Jon a funny look. Then he turns away.  Jon looks at him sideways but ignores it.

While they’re eating (silently — Jon wants to enjoy the deliciousness that is chicken pot pie, thank you very much), Jon catches Dan glancing up at him. Staring, really.

After they’re done eating, washing dishes and putting them back in the cabinet, Dan does it again!

“What?! What is it?” Jon sets down the fork that he’s scrubbing with a sponge. “Is there something on my face?”

To his surprise, Dan shoots back without hesitation, “On your ear, actually.”

Jon blinks at him. Dan reaches up and, without saying anything, brushes his thumb over the top of the shell of Jon’s ear. 

“You’ve got a bit of frostnip, here. A little on your chin, too. Can you feel that?”

Jon tries to focus on the texture and pressure of Dan’s rough, callused fingers on his ear. He’s a little distracted because Dan’s knuckles are brushing his neck and it tickles. “Uh. I guess.”

“Little numb?”

“Yeah.”

Dan nods. “Good thing I noticed it before it got to be frostbite.” He pauses and slides his hand down to brush his fingers over the dry skin on Jon’s chin, below his cheek. He’s right, it does feel a little numb. “Maybe I should start picking you up from school from now on. Or from Lovett’s, if you want to keep seeing him.”

Jon rolls his eyes and tilts his head up obediently, allowing Dan to inspect the rest of his face and ears. “Come on, Dan. You don’t want to do that and I don’t want you to do that.”

Dan smiles a little. “Stubborn.” He murmurs. His fingertips are still on Jon’s chin. He has big hands. “At least wear my hat from now on. I don’t want you getting frostbite. Frostbit? Something like that.”

“Yeah.” Jon feels strange. But not a bad strange. Inexplicably, he thinks of how Dan closed his eyes in embarrassment during their wedding, when he had messed up the vows.  _ Is this the same man, touching my face? _ Sometimes it doesn’t feel that way. “What are you doing?”

“Warming you up.” Dan drops his hand and scratches the back of his neck. “Just. Be sure to bundle up, okay?”

“Okay.” Jon smiles. “You’re still looking at me.”

“Yeah.” Dan smiles back, a bit more cheekily. “Now I’m just looking at you.” He’s teasing.

Jon teases back a little. “Well, stop looking at me then.”

A shadow crosses Dan’s face and he turns away. Jon’s about to say wait, no, I didn’t mean it like that, but the moment has passed. Besides, it doesn’t matter all that much anyway. The night was good all around. 

Jon lies in bed that night, wondering what Lovett’s surprise is. It could be anything — no, literally, anything. Lovett sometimes reminds Jon of his students. Not even in terms of book smarts — Lovett is one of the smartest men Jon knows, not even counting that he’s read more books than several of Jon’s college friends combined — but in terms of his energy, his zeal for living life despite the bad things it’s thrown at him. Lovett also seems like one of Jon’s students in the sense that Lovett also is the type of person to ask for your hand and then put a particularly cool looking spider into your palm as a gift. 

Jon’s not able to sleep. He decides to go refill his glass of water in the bathroom.

The light’s on in the living room. That’s odd. Jon glances over, just far enough that he can see down past the hallway —

Oh.

Dan’s spread out on the couch, his long underwear down by his ankles. His eyes are screwed shut; Jon can see from the light of the lamp that he has one hand wrapped around the head of his cock; the other is squeezing the base of it, where Jon can see a thick knot against his fingers. Dan doesn’t appear to notice Jon in the hallway. He’s very focused on the task at hand.

Jon can’t move. He can’t breathe. He’s transfixed.

Slowly, Dan moves his hand up and down his dick, which is rock hard.  The head of his cock is a rosy pink in contrast to the curls between his legs. He’s… big, Jon thinks distantly. Bigger than Jon, but then again, aren’t alphas supposed to be?

Oh, God.

Dan’s hand stutters halfway through the motion, and then continues in slow strokes, up and down. He’s not even really moving his hand, more that his hips are rolling up to thrust into his fist. And then there’s the knot, big and prominent; Jon’s never seen one in real life.  It’s evidently more sensitive than how it’s been described in books, from the way Dan keeps squeezing it slightly with his other hand and then shuddering with his whole body. He moves his hand down to squeeze his balls, his lips parted slightly in pleasure. If Jon was closer, he’s sure he could hear Dan sighing.

Jon should move. He should really move. Go back to his room.  His mouth is very, very dry, but he doesn’t dare go to the bathroom. He can’t even move. He feels like his feet have been pasted to the floor.

Dan moves his hand up and down his cock more quickly, evidently finding a rhythm he likes. Jon glances on the floor, where the long line of Dan’s leg is pointing down, and sees the blanket puddled on the ground. Beside it is a tiny bottle of coconut oil. 

Well. At least Jon knows what that’s for, now.

Dan — his  _ husband,  _ oh, God — slows down after a moment, removes his hands from his dick entirely. His hands are shaking. He’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat. After a couple of seconds, he lets out a little breathless laugh, staring at the ceiling. Jon understands immediately. The feeling of being so consumed in pleasure that it’s almost dizzying. 

Jon can’t breathe. He can’t move, still. Dan still hasn’t seen him. He must not be at an angle where Dan can see him.  Or Dan’s mind is somewhere else, somewhere Jon can’t see. 

After a couple of minutes he starts up again, with long, slow strokes, one hand squeezed tight around his knot. A far away, distant thought in Jon’s mind reminds him that a knot only expands in an alpha’s body after an orgasm. 

But then again, Jon’s book taught him that alphas can come multiple times if they so desire, the same way omegas can during heat.

The cycle of slow, easy strokes speeding up into quick wet motions of his hand continues for  _ minutes.  _ It gives Jon entirely too much time to think. 

Jon had been so focused on himself and his own heats, that he had forgotten Dan is also human, is an alpha. Dan has his own needs and wants and desires. Including sexual ones. And he had — he had brought Jon all the way across the state, he wanted a companion, a  _ husband,  _ someone to make love to —

Dan’s muscles are tight, tense, his entire body coiled in anticipation as he fucks up into his own hand. Jon stares, mouth parted, skin feeling like it’s on fire, while Dan spreads his legs further, moves his hand faster, faster, until finally coming in hot spurts, his body shaking, white streaks painting his stomach. Jon’s brain feels fogged up, like the windows of his bedroom. He remembers another thing from his book: alphas generally produce more ejaculate than omegas do. 

Oh, god.

Jon hears, so soft that if he hadn’t been listening for it he wouldn’t have heard it, a broken “ _ fuck”  _ slip out of Dan’s mouth, almost whimpered. 

Jon doesn’t think he’s ever heard Dan swear before.

All of the anxieties that Jon had forgotten in the last few months come flooding back into his mind at once. He’s suddenly very aware of how close he is to Dan, how Dan could glance over at any moment and catch him looking. 

Carefully, making sure to step over the floorboard that creaks, Jon sneaks back to his room.

He doesn’t sleep much for the rest of the night.

___

“Jon,” Dan asks, “are you listening to me?”

“What? Uh. Yeah.” They’re standing out in the empty field, surveying where seeds will be planted come springtime, when the dirt turns from hard, brittle earth to soft soil. But Jon hasn’t been listening. He hasn’t been able to pay much attention to Dan for the last week, since he caught him doing… that. 

Jon doesn’t know why he’s so upset about this. But he is. He’s very upset. He feels like he’s been filled with kindling, and now a flame is spreading inside his body, heating him all the way from his head to his toes, even in the cold sunshine. He turns the collar of his coat up a bit further, tugging it around him like he’s a turtle moving into his shell. He’s not cold. He just wants to hide from Dan’s blue eyes, bluer than the sky above them. 

The poets never write about how winter can sometimes produce blue skies. Winter in Pennsylvania has produced some of the bluest skies Jon’s ever seen. Maybe no one else is noticing it because the wind is always whipping . He’s surrounded by it, drowning in it. He looks up at the clear sky and wishes he were back in Boston. Things made so much more sense there. 

“Do I really need to be here?” Jon sticks his hands in his pockets. He knows he’s being petulant. But lately it’s become harder to hide his emotions like he was able to do at the beginning of his and Dan’s marriage.  Maybe he opened himself too much. 

“I guess not.” Dan frowns. “But you said you wanted to help me survey the fields a week ago.”

A week ago I didn’t catch you spread out on the couch like something out of one of my magazines, Jon thinks.

“I changed my mind.” Jon kicks at a loose pebble with his shoe. He doesn’t like feeling like this. It’s like the first time he had a heat, when he felt strange and cramped up and unsure about how he was supposed to interact with the world around him. “Can I go back to the house?”

“You don’t have to ask me where you can and can’t go.” Dan frowns and leans down a little to look at Jon’s face.  “But I’d really appreciate it if you told me what’s making you so grumpy.”

“‘M not grumpy.”

“Jon, you won’t even look me in the eye. Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you in some way?”

There Dan goes again. He’s too nice; it makes Jon suspicious. What is he hiding? Why is he so hard to read?  Maybe if he were easier to understand, Jon wouldn’t feel so confused towards him. Instead, it’s just butterflies in his stomach, all the time. A swarm. There are more butterflies in Jon’s stomach than he’s ever seen in real life. He would like them to go away, thank you very much.

“You didn’t hurt me.”

“Then what’s wrong? You’ve been quiet, you’ve been moody, you won’t come sit with me anymore…” Dan sounds very hurt. But Jon can’t feel sympathetic when this is the same man that’s made his mind turn into applesauce with how much overthinking of the entire situation he’s done.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong, I just…” Jon can’t look at him. He puts his hands in his pockets and turns away, looking out at the wide expanse of flat ground. “I caught you.” There, he’s said it. Can they please never talk about it again?

There’s a pause and for a moment Jon entertains the idea that maybe they  _ don’t  _ need to talk about it. Then, Dan says, “... Caught me doing  _ what _ ?”

Do they really need to do this? Here? Sure, there’s no one around for nearly a mile, but it still feels too public. This feels like a conversation that should be whispered, not yelled. But at the same time Jon  _ wants  _ to yell. Wants to say, why are you doing this to me? Why can’t I understand my own feelings? Before I met you everything made sense.

_ Before I met you everything was way less interesting. _

“I caught you, um, touching yourself.” Jon turns around halfway, so Dan’s looking at his profile. They’re standing maybe four feet apart. The ground underneath them, tinged white with frost, makes a crunching noise when he shifts his weight. 

There’s another long pause. For a split second, Jon’s worried that Dan’s going to yell at him. But why should he think that? Why is Jon still terrified that Dan’s going to be like the horror stories he’s heard from other omegas — rumors whispered above his head when he was a kid — when Dan’s consistently proven otherwise?

Is it because Jon’s seen Dan’s knot, and it reminded him that they’re not just two men living in a house in a tiny town in central Pennsylvania? That they’re husband and wife? Somewhere along the way Jon forgot.

Dan makes a short sound that’s hard to decipher. It almost sounds like a cross between a scoff and - laughter?

“Oh thank God,” Dan squints up at the sun, “I thought I had done something really wrong.”

Jon crosses his arms. Dan’s nonchalance stings amidst his own crisis. (Crisis about  _ what?  _ A voice in the back of his mind says.  _ What are you to him? What is he to you?  _ Another voice says.) “Whatever.” Jon’s voice is quiet, not the emphatic tone he had meant to use.

Dan straightens up and peers at Jon thoughtfully. “Oh, you’re actually upset about this.”

Well doesn’t that just make Jon feel like shit. “It’s not funny, don’t make fun of me.”

Dan walks over to look Jon in the eye, but Jon won’t meet his gaze. “Okay, are you upset that you caught me or are you upset that I was doing it at all? Because if it’s the former, then I apologize. I’ll… put a boot in the doorway or something.”

Jon doesn’t say anything. That stupid voice in his head pipes up,  _ shouldn’t you be used to seeing your own husband naked?  _

Dan’s clearly frustrated by the lack of an answer. “Okay, well, I’m not going to apologize for that. I’m just not. I think I’m allowed —” He sighs, kicks at the ground a little bit. “I think I’m allowed to touch myself in my own home, Jon.”

Jon feels a dull ache deep inside him. He recognizes it, but doesn’t want to name it. The word arrives in his mind as clear as the sky above him. Arousal.

It doesn’t make his feelings any clearer. He wonders if part of it is just that Dan’s an alpha. His alpha, technically. But they’re not bonded.  That part of their marriage was never solidified. Like a piece of knitting that’s never been finished.

“Jon, talk to me. I honestly can’t imagine that you really have a problem with it. I mean, it’s very natural. I’m sure you’ve — I’m sure you’ve done it yourself, plenty of times. It’s only natural.”

That makes Jon feel about fifty times worse. Yes, he has done it, plenty of times. In Dan’s bed, usually during his heats. But not always. 

“I’m going to take a walk.” Jon says. He’s tired of this conversation, of being able to feel all of the blood in his body rise to his face. He must be as red as a beet. 

“Jon —”

“I  _ said  _ I’m going to take a walk.” Jon turns and starts heading towards the road. 

“Jon…” Dan sighs and takes a few steps — Jon can hear the earth under him — but ultimately doesn’t go after him. 

Jon’s not sure he wants him to. 

He walks down the long pathway all the way down to the main part of town, to where Lovett is. He doesn’t know what he wants to talk to Lovett about.  He’s upset, but what is he supposed to say? Dan really didn’t do anything wrong. Jon’s just confused and frustrated with himself.

He walks into Lovett’s store, completely ready to give a rant of his own — maybe about how alphas are confusing and need to learn to say what they feel instead of just making their omegas frustrated — when for the second time this month, he’s confronted with a surprising sight.

Lovett, sitting on the counter, is kissing someone. A very specific someone. With blonde hair. 

“ _ Tommy?”  _ Jon exclaims.

They break apart immediately, turning towards him. Lovett immediately goes crimson and smiles sheepishly.

“This is… not how I wanted to present him to you.” He shrugs. “But… surprise!”

Tommy Vietor, tall and blond and pale and Jon’s best friend, is standing in front of him.

“Hey, Jon.” Tommy says. He’s grinning like a loon. 

“Tommy —” Jon practically jumps into his arms.

Hugging Tommy is exactly how Jon remembers. Warm, safe, secure. Tommy squeezes him tight and they remain like that for what must be minutes.

“I missed you.” Jon murmurs into Tommy’s shoulder. “I missed you so much.”

“Missed you too, buddy.” Tommy’s voice rumbles against Jon’s skin. “I missed you too.”

They step apart after a while and Jon grins. “So. You two, huh?” His grin is even wider when he sees that Tommy actually looks  _ bashful.  _

“I’m… staying with him, for a few nights, actually. If… you don’t mind.” Tommy hesitates for a moment.

“That’s — no that’s — that’s swell.” Jon can’t stop smiling. He’s happy about all of it. About Tommy. About Lovett and Tommy. It’s all great. Fantastic, really. Stupendous. All of those happy words and more.

“I called on you and Dan to see if you wanted to come over for supper, but you weren’t there.” Lovett hops off the counter. “I left a note.” 

Jon briefly thinks of Dan’s and his argument (could it even be called an argument?) out in the fields. “I’m sure he’ll stop by later. I’m not missing a second of your being here.” He grins at Tommy. “I have so much to show you!”

Jon takes Tommy around the town, stopping just short of tugging him along by the hand. He shows him everything he can. And it’s wonderful, to see the tiny town through Tommy’s eyes. Jon is reminded of how beautiful it is out here, away from tall buildings and tenements. 

“You should see it in the summertime.” Jon says. He hated this place when he came here in June; but looking back, the waves of grain and corn, sprouts and vines, were some of the most beautiful views Jon had ever seen.  He can’t wait to see them again. 

It’s also a good reminder of how many new friends Jon has made in this town. There’s Lovett, of course, but there’s also Chris and Katy, and Ira, and mayor Obama, and Biden and Kornacki and Don Lemon and all sorts of other characters. 

After it gets dark and the night watchman starts lighting the few lamps that dot the streets of the town, they head back to Lovett’s house, where he insists that he’s going to make them all dinner. Turns out, Lovett actually knows how to cook. (Something Jon should probably have known by now. Also, turns out Lovett’s first name is also Jon. Who knew? Sometimes Jon really needs to learn to communicate.)

“So,” Tommy asks, once they’re sitting down and waiting for the roast in the oven to finish cooking, “where’s the, uh…” He trails off and gives Jon a meaningful look.

Jon opens his mouth when there’s a  _ smack!  _ of a pebble being tossed at the window. Jon goes to look, and standing in the street in his overcoat, cheeks rosy, flurries stuck in his peach-fuzz hair, is — who else? — Dan Pfeiffer. 

“Let me in!” He calls. Lovett races downstairs to do so.

Dan comes in and takes off his coat and scarf, making conversation with Lovett and thanking him for the invitation. “I knew Jon would be here, I just had some things to do before I could —” He stops short, seeing Tommy at the dinner table. Tommy stands and walks around, his frame broad and only an inch or two taller than Dan’s. “Oh. I didn’t know there were other guests.” Dan offers a small, polite smile.

For a moment the jovial atmosphere in Lovett’s house pauses. It doesn’t cease to exist; it just pauses. It feels like everything has stopped, while the world adjusts to these two people meeting. Like the rolling fields of central Pennsylvania have literally merged with the tall buildings of Boston. Jon thinks if he glanced outside, the flurries coming down from the clouds might be frozen in midair.

Lovett is the first to speak. “Dan, this is —”

“Tommy Vietor.” Tommy greets. His tone is warm, but cautious. “You must be Dan.”

The two men shake hands. “Tommy.” Dan nods. “I’ve heard a lot about you. All good things.”

“I’d like to say the same.” Tommy replies. He’s giving Dan a once-over.  Jon winces and wonders if Dan picks up on how true the statement is. He did  _ not  _ write flattering things about Dan for the first month or so he lived with him.

“Well!” Lovett rushes in to diffuse the situation, handing them both glasses of sherry. “Please! Drink. Make merry. Welcome to my humble abode.”

The two of them make small talk in hushed voices while Lovett and Jon sit at the dinner table and pretend to not be eavesdropping.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Jon asks.

“I dunno.” Lovett shrugs. “Farming stuff. Lawyering stuff.”

“Thanks, Lovett. I’m serious.”

“I know you are! If you want me to be honest, I don’t think it’s the talking that’s important. I think it’s that they’re…” He trails off and an amused smile plays at the edges of his lips.

“What?” Jon glances over. Dan and Tommy appear to be quietly looking at each other, sipping their drinks. Both of them are standing up straight, leaning casually against the furniture, occasionally glancing at each other, up and down. Jon observes that Dan has done that thing he’s able to do, where he’s able to make himself seem bigger. 

“Nothing,” Lovett snickers, “It’s just — Jon, have you ever seen a peacock show off its plumage?” He giggles again, covering his mouth with his hand.

Jon’s eyes go wide as he gets the meaning. He playfully punches Lovett in the arm. “Hush, you.” 

After a little while they all settle down for supper; through the process of several different topics of conversation, and because Dan is insufferably nice, Tommy seems to grow to like him throughout the night. It helps that Dan’s a pretty good storyteller, and can nail a joke or two when he needs to. Tommy nods along to the stories he hears. Jon feels warmth from two things that aren’t the fire in the corner: Tommy’s big smile when Jon says how much he loves teaching here, and the knowledge that Tommy and Lovett are holding hands under the table. 

Afterwards, when they’re clearing off the table, Tommy asks Dan to join him in the other room to “discuss some things with him”. Jon goes to follow, but Lovett stops him with a gentle hand on his arm. 

“That’s, uh, talk for alphas.” He offers an sympathetic smile, and then winks. “Not for our virgin ears.”

Jon rolls his eyes but obediently stays in the kitchen. Besides, whatever curiosities he has about what Tommy’s telling Dan are far outmatched by wanting to interrogate Lovett.

“You have to tell me how it happened. Why Tommy? It seems awfully fast. And through correspondence! It’s very romantic.” Jon waggles his eyebrows.

Lovett smiles shyly. “I dunno, it just sort of… happened. I knew there was a connection. I knew I wanted to be with him.”

“Even without seeing what he looked like?”

“I didn’t have to.” For a moment, Lovett looks distant, far away, seeing something Jon doesn’t. “He made me laugh, even through his writing. That’s a difficult thing to know how to do. And… When you’re used to making everyone else laugh, it’s sometimes kind of nice to have someone put attention on you like that. It feels like everything falls into place. Even if you don’t really understand it at first.”

“Right.” Jon nods. He gets it. Kind of. Mostly he’s just happy his friends are happy. He couldn’t ask for two better people to be with each other.

Dan and Tommy return from the other room, chuckling over some joke. Whatever they discussed in private, Tommy seems satisfied that Dan’s a decent guy. Jon lets out a sigh of relief. He didn’t realize how much he was waiting for Tommy to give his stamp of approval.

“I hope you two weren’t talking about me.” Jon says. Tommy grins.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

While Lovett goes searching for a deck of playing cards and Tommy follows him like an eager puppy, Dan sits next to Jon at the table.

“Listen,” Dan says, “about earlier today —”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jon interrupts. “It’s totally fine.” He’s honestly forgotten what he was so upset about. 

Dan visibly relaxes. “Good.”

The rest of the night passes in a whirlwind of good conversation, card games, and snow flurries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Gulliver's Travels was published in 1796. It's about a man who travels to, among other places, a land full of Lilliputians, or very tiny people. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gulliver%27s_Travels  
> 2\. Canfield is a card game invented in the 1890s. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canfield_(solitaire)  
> 3\. Frostnip is a precursor to Frostbite. One of the treatments is rewarming the skin. (the rewarming being done in a romantic fashion is presumably optional, though recommended. By me.) https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/frostbite/symptoms-causes/syc-20372656
> 
> thanks to @everyone will see for betaing, remember to leave a comment if you liked it (I feed on validation), and VOTE in the midterms!


	10. February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The only stupid thing about words is the spelling of them.” - Laura Ingalls Wilder

Dan Pfeiffer, Jon has learned, sleeps like a bear.  Jon’s never been to California - though he has one or two relatives that went west during the gold rush - but he knows there are occasionally earthquakes there.  He imagines that Dan could probably sleep through the earth shaking. Maybe a tornado, too, like the ones that happen in Kansas. It’s not just that he’s big and tall; it’s that every Sunday, without fail, Dan takes a long nap on the couch, his shirt flung over the side of the couch, his legs hanging off the edge because he’s so tall. He effectively goes into hibernation every Sunday, sleeping on his tummy, his face pressed into a cushion. Anyone who knocks on the door of Dan Pfeiffer’s little house between the hours of twelve and two once a week is not going to receive an answer.

Jon used to tiptoe around him, unsure of how angry he would be if he woke up. But after a few months and one shattered teacup, he learned that Dan could literally sleep through anything.  That’s how he’s able to pace around in the living room one Sunday afternoon in February, mumbling to himself with his glasses perched on the end of his nose, holding his notes up like they’re the skull in a production of Hamlet.

It’s after the twentieth time he’s walked the length of the walkway from the front door to the back of the house that Jon hears a low groan from the couch.

“You’re talking to yourself.” Dan says. His voice is muffled in the cushion he’s facing. He turns his head to the side. “Why are you mumbling to yourself?” He doesn’t sound upset. Maybe Jon would have scurried off to his room many months ago, but now he just stops and raises an amused eyebrow at the man lying face down on his couch. Dan has a farmer’s tan in the summer, the nape of his neck a warm brown, matching the tan on his elbows. It’s a big contrast to his pale skin in the winter; Dan’s back is dotted with freckles that stand out as his muscles shift. Jon inexplicably thinks of the connect the dots games he hands out to his younger students. He wonders if he could find the image of a dog or a cat on Dan’s skin.  The idea makes his face feel warm and his chest feel funny so he decides to focus on Dan’s question instead.

“I’m working on notes for the spelling bee.”

“I thought you had that last week.” Dan yawns and sits up, grabbing his shirt and putting it back on. It looks like it used to be a checkered red, but the color in it has faded into a soft pink.  Dan has about a million of those types of shirts; checkerboard-patterned and made of a fabric that looks soft and comfortable in the winter but must be sweltering and stuffy in the summer. Dan’s clothes are much sturdier than Jon’s. Maybe Jon should ask to borrow some. They probably wouldn’t fit, though.

“That was for the little kids. Words like counting, bake, tooth. This one’s for the eighth graders. The words need to be at least a little more difficult.”

Dan lies back with his arms behind his head. His shirt is only halfway buttoned up. Jon only notices that because he’s accidentally fastened a button into the wrong buttonhole. “Who won the last week’s bee?”

“Nikki Haley.” Jon smiles to himself as he continues his pacing, albeit at a slower pace. He can still recall her turning and haughtily walking down the aisle of desks to her seat, flipping her pigtails in Larry Kudlow’s face.

“Who d’you think is going to win this one?”  
  
Jon turns to look at him. “What, you got money on this?”

“No, I just like hearing you talk about your work.” The comment makes Jon blush and look at the floor, so it’s a good thing Dan keeps talking. “Why do you need notes, then? Are you thinking of more words?”

“No, I’ve already thought of all the words. I need to give a sentence just in case they ask for one, and it slows things down to think of something on the spot.” Jon’s always preferred to write things down anyway. He finds that it clears the mind.

“Well,” Dan tilts his head and rests his hands on his stomach, lacing them together, “maybe I can help.”

Jon rolls his eyes and grins. “I don’t know, are you sure you can even spell these words?” It’s a kind-hearted jab. Dan is the first person to make fun of his own lack of a more formal education.

“Sure I can. Give ‘em to me.”

Jon looks down at his list. “Hmmm…. Spell ‘unconscious’.”

Dan pretends to look thoughtful. “Sir, could you give me a definition?”

“You know what it means.”

“It’s called a joke, Jon. Do they not teach you those up in Boston?”

Jon doesn’t hide his laughter. “Unconscious. Not conscious, or without awareness.” He turns to face Dan. “This is where I’d use it in a sentence.”

“Unconscious. U-N-C-O-N-S-C-I-O-U-S. Unconscious.” Dan sticks his chin in the air a bit haughtily. “The young farmer could win a spelling bee even if he was unconscious.”

“Were.”

“What?”

Jon turns away from the doorway and begins idly pacing to the other end of the room. “If he were unconscious.”

“This is why marrying a teacher is a bad idea. Give me another one.”

Jon ignores that first part of the sentence. Whenever Dan is nice to him - which is often - he also tends to bring up that he’s married to Jon. It makes this creeping suspicion pop up in the back of Jon’s mind. What are Dan’s motives? What does Dan want? Is this just Dan’s way of lulling Jon into a false sense of security, before he sets about putting up rules and pathways for Jon to follow? Jon has seen plenty of omegas in his lifetime who have been relegated to waiting at their alpha’s beck and call. He’d rather not do that.

Still. He’ll enjoy this moment, right now. There’s no problem with right now. Even if there is that strange feeling, like a tickle in the back of his throat.  

“Demitasse.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“That’s the next word. Demitasse.”

“Uh, may I have the definition? It sounds like something Alyssa might wear.” Dan mumbles the last part.

Jon doesn’t know who that is. “It’s a small coffee cup.”

“Otherwise known as a mug.” Dan comments. “Uh, I drank out of my demitasse because I didn’t want to use another cup.”

“Good. Now spell it.”

“D-E-M-I-T-A-S-S. Demitasse.”

Jon throws an exaggerated frown in Dan’s direction. “I’m sorry, that’s incorrect. Here is where I would send you back to your seat.”

“Good thing I’m the only one playing. Give me the other words.” Dan closes his eyes, taking in the warmth and the sound of the fire crackling. Jon takes one of his torn up notebook pages - empty scribblings, poetry about nothing in particular - and tosses it in, watching it burn orange.

“Chrysanthemum. A widely cultivated plant with brightly colored showy flower heads.” Jon reads.

“C-H-R-Y-S-A-N-T-H-E-M-U-M. Almost got tripped up on the Y.” Dan answers. “As for the sentence…” He thinks for a moment. “I picked some Chrysanthemums for Jon for his birthday.”

Jon reads over his list and feels warmth from the fire at his back. He’d like flowers for his birthday. It might go far in fixing the harsh memories he has associated with his last one.

_Black soot getting on his face and in his mouth, an unfamiliar world far away from everything he loves…_

“Rectangular.”

“That’s not very difficult of a word.”

“Not for you, maybe. For eighth grade Eric Swalwell?”

“Right. Uh, R-E-C-T-A-N-G-U-L-A-R. Rectangular. The shutters on the windows of my house are rectangular.”

“Did you build those yourself?”  
  
“I built this whole house myself, Jon.” Dan looks very proud of that fact. “With the help of a few friends, of course.”

“I still find it difficult to imagine Lovett with a saw and some lumber.”

“You’d be surprised. He’s very handy.” Dan puts one leg over the other. He’s wearing the socks Jon knit for him.  They’re striped, blue and white.

“Performance. An act of staging or presenting a play, concert, or other form of entertainment.” Jon thinks of his own puppet shows with his brother when he was very little.

“P-E-R-F-O-R-M-A-N-C-E. Alyssa and I put on a performance at the local schoolhouse.”

There that name is again. “Dan, who’s Alyssa?”

Jon’s not sure he wants to know the answer.  The creeping suspicion in his mind rises to the surface. There had been other rumors that Jon had heard, back in Boston, when he was very young. Hiding behind the folds of his mother’s skirt. _Did you hear about Mrs. So-and-so? Her alpha is stepping out on her. Does she even know? Can you imagine how dreadful that must be? I’m glad my alpha would never do such a thing._ Jon knows that Dan goes to a… house of ill repute when he can’t stand to be in the same house as Jon during a heat. Is that a woman there? Is that whoever Dan is spending his nights with because he finds Jon so utterly disgusting during that part of his life?

What does this Alyssa get to see that Jon doesn’t? A harsh pang of jealousy runs through Jon’s body, like a bolt of lightning. Which doesn’t make any sense. Jon likes Dan, but no more than he likes Lovett or Tommy. He should probably be happy that Dan is seeking… satisfaction, somewhere else.  This way, Jon could be a good husband, but wouldn’t have to do any of that. Any of the things that he so desperately wants when his mind is fogged up due to a heat.

Except it doesn’t feel like that. Jon doesn’t like that solution. He wants… he doesn’t know what he wants. But he knows plenty of people are just friends with their spouses. People who are pushed together out of circumstance and have to learn to put up with each other. Jon’s lucky enough to not have to go through the motions of being a traditional husband.

Because that’s what Dan is, right? He’s definitely Jon’s friend. But he wouldn’t be married to him if he was given a chance. He’d rather just live with Dan in this little house, as a roommate.

But that’s also not true. Because Jon’s had roommates, before, in college. He lived with Tommy for a couple of years while they were both getting their degrees. This doesn’t feel like that.

“Alyssa’s just… a friend.” Dan smiles and twiddles his thumbs a bit. “We grew up together.”

“And she’s where… you go? During my heats?” Jon turns to face the fire. The bright orange of the flames contrasts with the greyness of the world outside. It hasn’t snowed yet, but it will soon. Jon can feel it in his bones, just like Dan claims he can feel when it’s going to rain.  Maybe some of Dan’s farmer sense for these sorts of things has rubbed off on him.

“Yes, but. It’s not what you’re thinking.” Dan stands. “We grew up together. We went to school in the same schoolhouse you’re teaching in. She’s just a friend.”

He walks over to Jon but Jon doesn’t turn around. He just stays, facing the fire. Why does this happen so often, lately? Jon works himself up into a near panic because he doesn’t know what Dan’s thinking, what Dan wants. For that matter, Jon doesn’t know what Jon wants.

“Is she an omega, too?” Jon says quietly. They’re both facing the flames. If Jon looked, he might see the shadows flicker over Dan’s face.

“Why does that matter?” Dan’s got his hands in his pockets. He wiggles his toes a little in his socks.  

 _It matters because she must be in heat sometimes. Suppressants are expensive. And if she’s in heat while I’m in heat, how come you can stand to be around her but you can’t be around me_? “I guess it doesn’t. I just… Be careful, okay?” Jon takes a deep breath. He can live like this. That’s fine. Dan’s his friend. He likes being with him. He shouldn’t want to ruin it out of some strange jealousy that he doesn’t fully understand.

He turns away to go back to his bedroom but Dan grabs him by the wrist and tugs him forward so they’re less than a foot away from each other. Jon gasps lightly and bites his lip. Dan’s eyes are piercing.

“I don’t need to be careful because I’m not doing anything. She’s just a friend. It’s different with you.”

“Different with me how?”

There’s silence in the room. Dan’s grip on Jon’s wrist tightens almost imperceptibly, but it’s enough to make Jon forget himself for a moment. His papers, clutched in his other hand, fall to the floor.

The spell is broken. Dan’s eyes break away and he moves to the ground to pick them up. Jon doesn’t understand what just happened. For someone who has lived nearly nine months in this house, he doesn’t understand anything about the other man living in it.

“There’s only one word left.” Jon breathes when Dan hands back the papers. Dan glances down at the page with the spelling words.

“Abstain. A-B-S-T-A-I-N. Abstain. I have abstained for a long time, and will continue to do so,” Dan says quietly, “though I do not wish to any longer.”

Jon feels like maybe the flames from the fireplace have spilled out onto the floor and have crawled up his body. Dan is far too close to him. He thinks if they get any closer he’ll combust. What is happening to him? “Um.” He struggles to come up with the words. “That’s - it doesn’t really explain the definition of the word.”

“Right.” Dan says quietly. He’s still holding Jon’s gaze.  The one inch height difference between them seems enormous right now.

This isn’t how things were with Tommy. It also isn’t how things were with Lovett.  Is this how things are when Dan’s with Alyssa? Somehow, Jon feels like it isn’t.

But Dan’s already stepped away and Jon still has that other strange emotion, sitting in the back of his head.

“I’m going to go back to sleep, if you don’t mind.” Dan goes back to his spot on the couch, resting on his stomach. “Don’t worry, you won’t wake me.”

Jon nods and resumes his pacing, though his steps are lighter. He’s not even bothering to look at his notes; other things are on his mind. After a few minutes he glances over at Dan, who is fast asleep. Carefully, cautiously, he takes a cushion and blanket off of the other chair in the room. Setting it on the ground next to the couch, he pulls the blanket over himself, laying down.

Dan’s arm hangs on the edge of the couch. Jon reaches out, his arm flat on the ground. Their fingertips are almost touching. As it is, the soft edge of Dan’s sleeve brushes the back of Jon’s hand.

___

“Don’t baby me.” Jon complains from his spot by the fire. He’s in Lovett’s store at the end of the school day, petting Pundit. Pundit looks much chubbier than she did during the summer; Lovett says that’s because she’s an outdoor cat. Jon didn’t even know cats could be indoor cats or outdoor cats.  “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’re not going to be fine. You’re going to freeze to death outside and I’m going to have to thaw you out with an ice pick.” Lovett puts his hands on his hips and stares out the window. “I don’t even own an ice pick, Jon. I’ll have to put you in the fire and let you melt.”

“You seem to have a pretty decent plan for my freezing to death.”  Jon can’t help but grin.

“You know what would be a pretty decent plan? Not freezing to death in the first place.” Lovett crosses his arms.

“I’m not staying here, Lovett. Dan’s gonna miss me at home, and besides, all of my books are there. Look,” He gestures outside, “it’s not even snowing that hard.”

Lovett bites his lip but finally acquiesces. “Take my hat. And my scarf. Please?”

Jon rolls his eyes but obediently puts the knitwear on. “It’s just going to be a few inches, Lovett.  It’s the last snowstorm of the season. I’m not going to get stuck. And even if it’s more, I have long legs. I’ll be fine.” He gestures down to his legs as though Lovett can’t see them, and hasn’t made fun of their height difference about fifty times already.

“I’m just saying, snowstorms out here aren’t the same as they are in the city. Be careful, okay?”

“You’re way too protective of me, especially lately.” Jon comments.

“Yeah, well.” Lovett rubs the back of his neck. “I’m your friend. I gotta keep you out of trouble. So… just don’t get in trouble, okay?”

“Okay.” Jon leans down and gives Pundit one more pat, and then he heads out, opening and closing the door quickly so he doesn’t let the wind come in and extinguish the fire at the back of the room.

Lovett was right. Though this is the last big snowstorm of the season - it’s halfway through February, for God’s sake - the snow comes down in big fluffy clumps, faster and faster as Jon makes his way down the road. After a little while, the pathway becomes covered, and Jon can no longer see the road. He feels a slight twinge of fear but keeps going. There are dark spots to his left and to his right. Houses. Don Lemon, Chris Hayes. He can make it back to his own home, and then Dan will make fun of his soaking wet appearance and the snow in his hair, and everything will be fine.

But the snow only comes down harder. After a while, it becomes difficult to see even the dark spots that Jon knows are houses. But he was going the right direction before, right? So he keeps going straight.

But eventually the snow is coming down so hard that everywhere Jon looks is white. Snow, a usually comforting presence in Jon’s life, has succeeded in making him completely unable to see the world around him. It’s even difficult to define what is the ground and what is the sky above him.

A whiteout. And Jon’s in the middle of it.

Panic rises up in his throat but Jon knows better than to let it get to him. He knows there are fields for miles in every direction, depending on where he is. Is he still on the path? What if he’s gotten lost? Will Dan have noticed? Most of the time he’s around by the time Jon gets home, but occasionally he’s out in the fields, or in the winter he’s managing the livestock in the barn. Does Dan know that he’s not home? Jon fishes his pocket watch out of his knapsack, but the face of it is covered in frost. He has no idea what time it is.

It’s very cold. Very very cold. The wind whips around him and cuts his cheek like a knife.  Jon can feel his toes sting with pain every time he moves them. That’s good, at least. It means he hasn’t gone numb.

But ten or fifteen minutes later he can’t say the same thing. And all the while the snow is coming down hard, almost like sheets of wax paper folded over each other, the way Jon sometimes packs sandwiches for Dan and himself to eat out in the fields on sunny days.

God, he can’t even see the sun. Everything around him is white.

Exhaustion starts to set in after… How long has he been out here? An hour? Two hours? Longer? It’s impossible to tell. Jon feels his feet and legs go numb. It’s difficult to walk.

His foot, now feeling more like a brick at the end of his leg than a limb, must trip over something because Jon falls to his knees in the snow. He struggles and fights to sit up, but simply cannot get to his feet in the cold. Not to mention he’s afraid of taking his hands out of his pockets any more than he already has. _I knew I should have learned to knit thicker mittens!_

He’s so tired. So, so very tired. He should just close his eyes and conserve his energy for a few minutes…

No. He needs to keep going. He needs to, or he’ll die. He can’t die before he sees Washington. Before he’s done all of the things he wants to do.

There’s a dark shape in the distance, but Jon could be imagining it. His mind is going fuzzy.  It’s hard to tell what’s right in front of him.

He screams. He yells, as loud as he can, to the dark shape coming towards him, but his voice gets lost in the wind. The dark shape comes further towards him, but it doesn’t really matter. Jon’s eyes are closing, so everything is going dark.

The next few minutes (or so it feels, to Jon) are fuzzy and dark. But he’s being moved, he knows that. He’s somewhere nice and warm. Heaven, maybe? If so, it’s very soft.

There are voices. They don’t sound like angels, though. One of them sounds like Lovett.

_“No, no, you have to put in cold water first. He’ll lose his whole foot otherwise…”_

He’d like to wake up for that, but he’s too tired. There’s also an unfamiliar voice.

_“You just have to give it time, he’ll wake up. Okay? You can’t freak out about this.”_

Then some mumbling and some words Jon doesn’t recognize, though he does think that he hears “frostbite” once or twice. He doesn’t care too much though, so he doesn’t wake up for that.

Then some words in a language Jon doesn’t know. Spanish, maybe? They’re soft, and soothing. He stays asleep for that, too.

Time passes. Maybe half an hour? Jon doesn’t know. He sleeps through almost all of it. And when he’s not fully asleep, he’s too exhausted to open his eyes.

There’s another voice.  Soft, fuzzy, familiar. Dan’s.

“Please.” Jon hears. Dan’s voice sounds different. Choked up. Is he crying? “Please, just. Wake up. Okay?”

There’s a pause. Jon feels the surface he’s on shift a little, like somebody’s kneeling against the edge of it. He doesn’t feel like he’s on his bed. It can’t be that; Dan never goes in his room. He doesn’t want him to…

“If you wake up,” Jon hears, “I’ll make you all the chicken pot pies you want. And - and I won’t leave without telling you where I’m going, I know you don’t like that, and I’ll build you a bigger bookshelf, and… you can’t leave me, Jon, I haven’t even....” Jon’s very sleepy. It’s hard to pay attention.  Dan’s voice fades in and out. “So you can’t go. We have so much to do together. God, my life was so boring before you, my house had so little light in it, so - so you gotta wake up, okay? You gotta, I…” And then Jon’s asleep again.

Where once there was pure white, now all Jon sees is the inky blackness of the inside of his eyelids.

When he wakes up, there’s an unfamiliar face above him. He blinks a little and wonders if he’s in the afterlife.

“Dan! Su esposo está despierto!” And then he’s gone.

Jon blinks again and parts his lips, which are very dry. He could use some water.  Where’s his shirt? And his pants, for that matter. At least he’s under a blanket. At least he’s wearing underwear.

He looks around as much as he can without moving his head too much (he’s very sore). The house he’s in is nice, but unfamiliar.  There’s a fire roaring across from him. Newspapers are framed and hung on various walls. There’s a stuffed bunny on the rocking chair in a corner.

“Jon.” Dan’s voice is full of relief when he rushes over to Jon’s spot on the couch. He kneels down next to him and grasps his hands as if in prayer. “You’re awake.”

Jon blinks. Dan looks worn, like he’s been up for a long time. His eyes are red and puffy.

“I am.” Jon sits up slowly. “How long was I out?”  It must have been at least a couple of hours. No wonder Dan looks so worried.

“Asleep?” Dan looks at the small clock on the nightstand. “About a day and a half.”

A day and a half! Jon tries to sit up, but then falls back on the cushions, too tired to move. “I missed school.” He mumbles. Dan rolls his eyes and chuckles. His eyes are wet.

“Of course you worry about that. It snowed over a foot, Jon. No one’s going to school for a while.” He rubs his thumb over Jon’s hands. “God, it’s good to see you awake.”

A flood of affection rushes over Jon. Dan’s here. He’s here. And Jon’s here too, alive and safe. “Where - where are we?”

“I found you a little outside Jake Tapper’s house, so that’s where I stopped.” Dan’s hands are nice and warm. So is the blanket. So is the fire. Jon doesn’t want to be as cold as he was ever again.

“How did you find me?”

“Compass.” Dan says with a shrug, as though that isn’t a stroke of brilliance Jon wouldn’t have thought of in a million years.

“I - I wasn’t in the fields?” He had stayed on the road after all.

“I told you whiteouts could be bad out here.” Dan’s voice is quiet, soothing. “And I’m sure in a few days I’m going to be very mad at you for not listening to me.”

“Forgive me this time?” Jon croaks out. His throat is parched.

“Just this time.” A tear spills down Dan’s cheek, even though he’s smiling. “I’m going to go get you a glass of water, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“Okay. Hey,” Jon squeezes Dan’s fingers, “don’t cry. I’m right here, okay? You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Dan smiles and laughs a little, and then stands up and goes to the other room. Another man steps into the room, his hands in his pockets. He lingers by the doorway. He looks familiar.

“You must be Jake Tapper.” Jon shakily holds out his hand, and Jake comes over and they shake hands.

“You were in pretty dire straits for a while there.” Jake comments. He has the same mannerisms as his daughter - or, well, she has the same mannerisms as he does. “But we managed to fix you up in time to prevent any fingers or toes from being at risk. Got a doctor in, and everything.” He smirks. “Your friend Lovett was a big help.”

Jon smiles, thinking of Lovett running around the back of his building, trying to get his stubborn little pony to leave the warm stable in all of that snow after he’s heard about Jon. Lovett’s a good friend.

“I hope you don’t mind that my husband undressed you.” Jake gestures to Jon’s body. “But your clothes were soaking wet, and we didn’t want to risk hypothermia on top of frostbite. By the way, you might want to have your husband check on that every few days, just to make sure.” Jake has a way of talking about things that simultaneously makes it sound like he knows exactly what he’s talking about and also like he has no clue what’s going on. It’s an interesting tone.

“That’s fine.” Jon doesn’t know what he thought. That Dan undressed him? “I’m just glad to be alive. Thank you for that. And your husband.” _The man who makes your daughter laugh, who doesn’t speak much English. How does that work, anyway?_

“Oh, don’t thank us.” Jake smiles. “Thank your husband. He’s the one who found you.”

Again, as if on cue, Dan comes scurrying back with a glass of water that Jon eagerly drinks down in one go. Jon carefully swings his legs down to the floor, and pats the other side of the couch so Dan can sit. Jake gives them a knowing smile, one Jon can’t quite understand, and walks out of the room.

“Nobody freeze to death while I’m gone.” He calls back as he goes. Jon decides he likes Jake, and his husband.

He turns to Dan. “You found me in the snow.”

Dan shrugs. “Well, you usually come home at the same time every day. You didn’t come home on time. I knew something was wrong.”

Dan says it like it was nothing. Like he didn’t risk his own life by going out in the middle of a snowstorm, without any real guarantee that he’d find Jon or even get them both out of danger. But he did. And he saved Jon.

It’s not nothing. “You saved my life.” Jon whispers. The thought warms him from his head to his toes, far more than any fire ever could.

Dan smiles. “I had to bring you home, didn’t I?”

Jon’s been so wrong. Dan has never had any ulterior motives. He hasn’t ever wanted to be anything more than a good friend.  He’s cared for Jon at every opportunity, from cooking him food to building him a bookshelf to sitting and talking with him, every day after school. He’s been polite, gentlemanly, and hasn’t forced Jon to assimilate to his new world in any way that would have made him uncomfortable. And when Jon was in trouble, Dan went out to save him, even putting himself in danger to do so.

The creeping suspicion in the back of Jon’s mind melts away like snow in front of a flame.  Underneath all of Dan’s kindness and softness and empathy… is just that. It encompasses his heart and soul. Jon has found someone that he can trust entirely.

He doesn’t know if he wants to be Dan’s husband in a traditional sense; labels like that are difficult and make the butterflies in his stomach flutter about. But it doesn’t matter right now. Jon is incredibly lucky to be alive, and to be sitting next to someone who cares about him.

Tears are welling up in his eyes; Dan notices. “Hey now, what are you crying about?” He brushes his thumbs over Jon’s knuckles.

Jon doesn’t know how to verbalize it completely. “My life in your hands, Dan Pfeiffer.” He hopes Dan understands the meaning.  

The way Dan looks at him, Jon thinks he does.

They sit and watch the fire crackle in the fireplace until Jon gathers enough energy to return home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Snowstorms happen in Pennsylvania in February.  
> 2\. "Whiteouts" are when the snow is so thick that it makes it difficult to see anything. In really bad conditions, you can get lost meters away from your house. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Whiteout_(weather)  
> 3\. Here are some spelling bee words: https://www.spelling-words-well.com/spelling-bee-word-list.html  
> 4\. Fun fact: this chapter takes place on Valentine's Day.  
> 5\. I have no idea if being stuck in a snowstorm for ages would make you exhausted for a day and a half, but it wouldn't be a prairie au if someone wasn't asleep for at least a day. When your feet are in danger of being frostbitten, don't put them in warm water right away or I think you'll go into shock, or something. Start with cold and then slowly add warm water.
> 
> Thanks to @everyone will see for betaing, be sure to leave a comment, and as always, remember to vote in the midterms!


	11. March

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some old-fashioned things like fresh air and sunshine are hard to beat. - Laura Ingalls Wilder

In like a lion, out like a lamb. Jon thinks of that phrase as he walks down the main road to where Lovett’s store is. Today is one of a series of days that can only be described as beautiful. Sunny, bright. The buds of flowers are peeking out from the ground. Little Mitch McConnell found a frog in the backyard of the schoolhouse.  It’s like the world is slowly waking up from its slumber, yawning and stretching its limbs. Soon it’ll be time to take out the new linen, do some spring cleaning. Jon’s looking forward to that. He remembers doing it at home with his mother, taking out all of the spring clothes and dusting down their little apartment. It felt good to open all of the windows. It’s going to feel good to do that with Dan.

He stops at other places sometimes — Chris Hayes’ office, Beto’s store, Hanna’s tavern — but he always ends up at Lovett’s, every day, without fail. Lovett is his rock. Jon wouldn’t have lasted a month here if it weren’t for Lovett, making him laugh and assuring him that Dan was never going to hurt him.

Of course, Jon didn’t believe it at the time. But he does now! And that’s what’s important.

All of that being said, Lovett’s been kind of… weird, lately. Lovett’s always kind of weird, but Jon’s noticed things. Lovett has started talking to himself, more, when he thinks Jon’s not paying attention, like while he stacks cans or sorts out the pieces of mail that the mailman gives him. Lovett gets restless, sometimes, tapping at his leg like he’s drumming along to a song that only he can hear.  He’s moodier now, too, occasionally sitting with Jon and staring out the window like he wishes he could be somewhere else. But he isn’t unhappy; that’s what trips Jon up the most. He thinks he knows Lovett well enough that he’d be able to tell when he’s secretly unhappy. It doesn’t seem like that’s what’s happening, here. 

Maybe Lovett’s sick, and taking new medicine, and he doesn’t want to tell Jon about it because it’s embarrassing. Or maybe he’s just very tired. Or maybe, like Jon, his mood changes with the weather sometimes. Jon’s glad that the sun’s coming out, more. He soaks it in like a sunflower. He can’t wait until it gets warm enough to keep the front door of his schoolhouse open all the time. Dan fixed it so it doesn’t squeak every time it moves.  Maybe when it gets very warm, Lovett can take the day off of minding his store and sit and have lunch with Jon at the schoolhouse. Maybe Dan can come too. That would probably raise Lovett’s spirits. If they’re lowered. Jon doesn’t know.

The little bell by the door of the store rings as he enters. Lovett’s by the back, putting up boxes of dry cereal and bags of brown sugar.

“Yes, yes, well to me it seems like — just a moment!” Lovett stops mumbling and turns around. “Oh, it’s just you.”

“You sure know how to make a man feel loved, Lovett.” Jon grins and sets his bag down, taking his jacket off. 

“Hey, if you want affection, you can go to Dan. I’m here to make sure you’re working.” Lovett waves a box of Wheatena at him. 

Jon is fairly skeptical of that statement. “Lov, I sit here and pet your cat and read my book.”

“Which is work. You’re petting Pundit while I can’t. What book do you have today?” Sometimes if it’s a really good book, Jon passes it along to Lovett to read after him. They’re both voracious readers, but Lovett rarely gets a chance to go to Ira’s bookstore the next town over. So along with Dan, books circulate between the three of them. The red bookshelf in Jon’s schoolhouse serves as a library. (Dan might need to build a bigger one soon, though, at the rate they’re going.)

“The autobiography of Benjamin Franklin. Dan says it was good, so I figured I’ll give it a shot.”

“It looks like a doorstopper.”

“He lived a hell of a life.” It’s true. Jon’s been getting through it bit by bit, and each part is more interesting than the last. 

Lovett goes back to stacking his foodstuffs, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, while Jon settles down in his usual spot by the window. Pundit immediately jumps up next to him and mews. He pets her and opens his book. 

A piece of paper slides out from further into the book that Jon’s gotten. It falls to the floor with a soft  _ swish  _ and lands on the hardwood.

Lovett glances over at it and then turns back. “Don’t be messing up my store, Favreau.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Jon sets his book down and picks up the paper. “Just a bookmark.” Dan is always using old bits of paper and scraps of newspapers to mark his place in his books. Jon keeps telling him to dog-ear his pages, but Dan says that he likes to do it that way. 

Lovett turns and leans over the counter, having finished his task of stacking boxes. He sees Jon staring down at the piece of paper. “What is it? Dan tear out the last page? I can tell you how it ends, if you’d like.” He jokes.

Jon’s frown doesn’t fade. He’s staring at the paper like it’s taking him someplace far away. “No, I think it’s… a letter. To… someone I don’t know.”

Lovett stands up straight, intrigued. “Who from?”

“From…” Jon’s very confused. “From my father.”

Lovett’s eyebrows go up into his curls. “Who’s your father writing out here?” 

“Well…” It’s at this point that old memories appear in Jon’s mind; ghosts of emotions he no longer feels. “I knew he wrote to Dan when he was negotiating the terms of sending me here. And how Dan would pay for the rest of my college tuition.” Jon still feels a little sick about it; he was traded around like one of Dan’s cows. He’s not mad at Dan about it; he’s not even mad at his father. He’s not even sure he’s mad; he just wishes it could have happened out of different circumstances.

But then again, would things be the same if Jon had come here under different circumstances? Would he even be here at all? Jon isn’t a religious man; he doesn’t ascribe things to fate or miracles. But sometimes Dan thanked “Nature herself” during the harvest; Jon could get behind something like that. 

Sometimes no one’s necessarily looking out for you when good things happen. Sometimes they just happen, and you’re grateful for it.

“Well. Mystery solved.” Lovett nods as if that’s the end of it, almost too quickly. “It’s a letter from your dad to Dan.”

“But it’s not. It’s written to… a Mrs. Clinton.” He looks up. “I suppose from Clinton County.” 

“Maybe.” Lovett rubs the side of his neck once again and goes over to mess with the cash register. “I don’t know.”

Jon vaguely remembers hearing the name Clinton before he came to this tiny town in Pennsylvania; it might have been someone his father worked with, once or twice. An alpha with connections in powerful places. 

“Dear Mrs. Clinton,” Jon reads, “I am seeking more information as to whether you or anyone in your company may be in need of a suitable husband. My son, a presenting omega, is unmarried, unbonded, and in need of a good home and an alpha who will care for him. Though I do wish he could be married under more loving circumstances, in truth, his true devotion is towards education —”

“Still true.” Lovett comments.

“— And I am endeavoring to find him a husband who could support him while also allowing him to live a relatively comfortable life following his university career.” Jon skims the rest of the letter. It leaves him with a hollow feeling in his heart. Wow. He really was traded like one of Lovett’s sacks of flour. 

“I’m sorry your pa talked about you that way.” Lovett says quietly, after a moment. Somewhere outside the window, a bee buzzes, knocking up against the window.

“It’s okay.” Jon shrugs. He feels very heavy, all of a sudden. Tired. “He really was only looking out for me. This was the best way to do it at the time. I suppose.”

He turns over the paper to see if there’s anything written on the back; maybe a post-script? But scribbled in black ink in Dan’s blocky handwriting (he had been retrained to write with his right hand instead of his left) is a simple note:  _ Ask Jon for more information, knows Mrs. Clinton. _

“That’s odd.” Jon tilts his head a little.

“What’s odd?”

“There’s a note here that says Dan was going to ask me for more information about this. But that doesn’t make any sense. This letter’s about me. It was written long before I knew him.” 

“Weird.” Lovett’s voice has gone wobbly and strange.

“Hey wait a second…” Jon looks up at Lovett’s back, which is turned to him as he fiddles with something on the shelves behind him. “Isn’t your first name also Jon?”

“... Yes.” Lovett has gone as red as a beet.  “But. I mean. That could mean anything. There are a lot of Jon’s in this town.  Some of them even have an H in their name.” He’s rambling.

It doesn’t take much time for Jon to put two and two together. “Lovett, my father said he got in contact with Dan through a friend of a friend.” Jon remembers the argument like it was yesterday. He must have slammed the door to their apartment hard enough to take it off the hinges. 

“Yeah. Um.” Lovett rubs the back of his neck again. “Well. I’m the first friend.” 

There’s a long, long silence as Jon takes in this information. As he imagines Lovett eagerly helping Dan write out his letter to Jon’s father. As Lovett contacts his friend and they all organize Jon’s trip to some unknown world, where he would live with an unknown man.

Lovett swallows and speaks again after a moment. “I’m… you need to understand.” He puts his hands on the counter. “Dan was… in a bad way, for a while, after his mom passed away. He sort of kept to himself, in his little house, in his little farm.  He wouldn’t come out. He said he was lonely. And…” Lovett looks very nervous, now. “And I thought, maybe, if he had someone who, who could just, live in his house, and, and I’m a romantic, and I just wanted him to be happy…” He bites his lip. When Jon looks at him again, he can see the bite marks there. “I thought of the ethical concerns of taking someone here later, but by then, you were already on your way to coming here, and…” He looks at the ground. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hid it from you. I just… I wanted you to like me.” He looks up at Jon with big, apologetic eyes.

Jon tries to summon some of the rage he would have felt a few months ago. His best friend hid something incredibly important from him. Lovett is the person who brought him here. His father had already been searching for some way to pay off his debts, but without Lovett, there wouldn’t have been any transaction. No negotiation, no letter to Dan, no big black train.  Jon might still be in Boston, with his family, and Tommy, and his books.

And yet, somehow he can’t be mad about it. Not even a little bit. Sure, there will always be residual pain at the memory of coming here, but Jon likes his little town central Pennsylvania. He likes his schoolhouse. And he likes his house, with its big red barn and its little red shutters. Jon likes Lovett and Chris and Katy and Jake and all of the other people he’s met since he got here.  Maybe he would have been angry before. But he can’t muster up the rage now.

Jon walks around the counter and Lovett takes a step back. “Okay, please don’t hit me. I’m small and I never really learned to fight back.”

“Lovett,” Jon says, “maybe you didn’t know it at the time, but telling Dan that he needed to find some debt ridden omega from Boston to call his companion was the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. Without you, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Well,” Lovett smiles bashfully, “I do sometimes do my best work when I’m not aware of it —”

Jon hugs him. Not for a long time, because Lovett’s not that keen on physical displays of affection, but he still gives him a good squeeze, because he can. Lovett hesitates for a moment, but hugs back. 

It’s at that point that Jon notices a funny mark on Lovett’s neck, a little below his ear.

“Hey, what’s that?” 

Lovett breaks away and covers it with his right hand. “What’s what?” 

“On your neck.” 

“Nothing.” Lovett blinks innocently.

“Lovett, move your hand. Whatever it is it can’t be that bad.” Jon has his suspicions, but he wants to be sure. Lovett could have gotten marked by something else, in theory.

Lovett hesitates for a moment, but then finally removes his hand, revealing a small, barely noticeable but still very much present mark on the side of his neck.  It’s familiar because Jon’s seen it on nearly every married couple he’s ever met. It’s a bondmark. 

“Lovett,” he breathes, “you’re bonded.”

Lovett rocks back a little on his heels and looks away shyly. “Yeah.” He doesn’t sound upset about it.

A teeny tiny part of Jon tells him not to pry, but the rest of Jon reminds him that it’s Lovett and they tell each other everything. “Is it Tommy?”

Lovett looks back at him and smiles, proud. “Yeah.” 

Happiness blooms in Jon’s chest like wildflowers at the side of the road home. “That’s — congratulations. That’s amazing.” 

“Thanks.” Lovett looks uncharacteristically bashful.

“Well, tell me all about it! This is awfully quick.” 

“There’s not much to tell, really.” Lovett sits up on the counter. Now that Jon knows the mark is there, it’s hard to believe he didn’t notice it before. “We did it in January.”

In Boston, bonding usually happened during a wedding, after the vows, or even in a separate ceremony depending on how wealthy your family is. It’s always done publicly, in front of God and usually a bunch of restless ten-year-olds in suits borrowed from the neighbors (Jon can speak from experience). Out here, Jon’s learned, bonding is done in private. Usually in bed, though that’s mostly speculation on Jon’s part.  Jon thinks he likes that better.

“And… it’s all okay? You’re not even married.” Jon has no concerns over whether or not Tommy and Lovett are truly meant for each other. He saw the way they looked at each other. He also sees that Lovett still writes Tommy, once a day, every day, and the subtle lines in Tommy’s letters to Jon about someday purchasing a little plot of land in central Pennsylvania. 

“Yeah, well, when you know.” Lovett fiddles with the buttons on his jacket. “You know.” 

Jon doesn’t really understand that, but he’s still appreciative of the sentiment. “Does it make living apart easier?” He doesn’t really understand bonds in general.

“Oh, loads easier. But sometimes it makes it more difficult. Tommy misses me, and I can feel that. And, well, it’s a little funny to have someone else’s thoughts in the back of your head. But I manage.” He smiles. “It’s better than being alone, that’s for sure.”

“You can hear his thoughts?” Jon raises his eyebrows. He’s not sure if he’d want that with anyone. Some of his thoughts are… private.

“Not exactly. It’s kind of like…” Lovett bites his lip. “Hmm.” He slides off the counter. “I can’t exactly explain it.”

“Could you try?” Jon doesn’t know why, but bonds fascinate him, lately. He knows he was valued for never being bonded before. That it somehow made him a clean slate. But what if he was marked? Chosen by someone? What does that mean?

“Well…” Lovett thinks for a moment. “Okay, I’m gonna try something. Turn around.”

Jon gives Lovett a funny look, but does so.

He then feels a light pressure on his shoulder blades. Lovett’s drawing something on the expanse of his back with his index finger.

“Can you tell what shape I just drew?” Lovett asks.

“Uh, a circle.”

“Okay…” Lovett does it again. “How about now?” 

“A star?”

“Okay, now I’m going to write a word.” Jon feels a series of motions on his back.

“I think… hello?” Jon turns around. “But I get your point.”

“Yeah.” Lovett’s cheeks are tinged slightly pink. “Being bonded is like if the shapes and words were his feelings. So, sometimes it’s really easy to tell what he’s up to, and what he’s thinking, and sometimes it’s more difficult.” Lovett stands a little taller. “But he’s there. Present, you know?”

“Sure.” There’s a pause. “So, why didn’t you tell me? I would have been happy for you. I am happy for you. Overjoyed, actually.” And he means it. 

“Well…” Lovett shrugs. “I guess I didn’t know if you were going to be upset.”

“Upset? Why would I be upset?”

“Well…” Lovett does a funny sort of eye roll. “Because you’re not bonded.”

“I can’t be envious of what I don’t know about.” Jon says. But he still feels the ghost of Lovett’s finger making shapes on his back. He’ll have to think about that. 

Jon notices that Lovett’s eyes are a little misty. “So you’ve been getting used to it, huh?”

“Mm-hm.” Lovett wipes at his eyes. “You know Tommy plays guitar?”

Jon smiles. “No, I didn’t know that.”

___

Maybe it’s because he’s still recovering from his near-death experience, somewhat, but Jon has learned to value the walk home from Lovett’s store to the house. It’s a dirt pathway, but soft grass lines the route for a few yards before the fields start. Wildflowers are starting to grow. Jon drinks in the sight of colors that he hasn’t seen for many months. Pinks and yellows and blues. Forsythia, the first real flower of spring, has bloomed in a bush outside of Katy and Chris’ yard. Maybe Jon should plant some flowers outside of the house. They probably won’t properly bloom into proper bushes full of color until next year, but that’s okay. Jon will be there. 

When he gets up to the porch of the house, he’s surprised to see that instead of Dan sitting in his usual spot, he’s lying down on the porch, a cushion under his head, his hat over his face.

Jon walks up so he’s standing directly over him. “Hey there, stranger.”

“I’m resting.” Dan’s smile is just barely visible from under the brim of his hat. “Come lie down with me.”

“I don’t think I will.” Jon takes the opportunity to sit down in the rocking chair. He should ask Dan to build him one of his own; he’s been envious of it for a while. “You’re not going to be able to get up now that you’ve lied down.” Dan has complained about his back more than once.

“Lying on the floor is good for your back.”

“What nonsense farmer’s newspaper told you that? You know I’m just going to end up pulling you back up again.” 

“That’s what you’re here for.” Dan says. He moves his hat to the side so Jon can look at him from his spot in the rocking chair, his elbows resting on his knees. 

Maybe months ago that remark would have made Jon upset. But now it doesn’t seem so bad.  Not because Jon thinks he exists to serve Dan; far from it. But… it just doesn’t seem that bad. He doesn’t know why. 

“How was your day?” Dan says. His eyes are slow-blinking and lazy in the way they always are after he’s been out in the fields all day. 

“Good. You know what I found out today?” Jon stares at the rumpled collar of Dan’s shirt. It’s warm out — Dan’s unbuttoned more than a couple of buttons. Jon counts like he does with his littlest students in his head; one, two, three, four.

“What did you find out today?” 

“Lovett and Tommy are bonded.”

Dan’s eyes go wide. “You’re kidding.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Really? They’re bonded?”

“Yep.” Jon smiles. A little ways away, a bird chirps. “Happened around January.” 

“Huh.” Dan stretches out a bit; his shirt rides up ever so slightly. That’s funny; Jon usually sees it tucked in. “I suppose it does seem like Lovett to bond without…” He trails off.

“Without getting married? Yeah, I thought that too.” Jon rocks back and forth a little in the chair; he finds he likes the motion. 

“Then again, not many conventional relationships happen in this town anyway.” Dan’s not wearing any shoes. His socks are a cool navy blue.  Jon knit them.

Dan’s comment reminds him of something. “Say, speaking of bonds…”

“Yeah…” Dan stiffens a little. 

“Jake Tapper and Jim Acosta are bonded. I saw the mark on Jake’s neck.”

Dan thinks for a moment. “Yes, I suppose they are. Makes sense, they’re married.” 

“But…” Jon doesn’t know how to word it. “Acosta doesn’t speak much English.”

“He speaks some. I spoke with him while you were…” Dan shifts a little, adjusting the cushion his head is lying on. “Recovering from your little adventure in the snow.”

“Hardly an adventure. But then… Not much English, then? How does he talk with Jake?”

“I imagine the bond helps with things. I’ve heard that some people can be so in tune with their bondmate that it’s like knowing what they’re going to say without saying it.” Dan closes his eyes and turns his face away.

Is it possible to feel the weight of something that doesn’t exist? That’s what Jon feels, burning the back of his neck. The bond they don’t have.

Would he like a bond with Dan? Is that something he wants?

Jon doesn’t feel like parsing the answer at the moment. There’s too much sunshine to worry about those sorts of things. Travis has let the sheep out and they’re grazing in the field. Little dots of white on a green canvas.

To distract from the subject at hand, Jon idly gazes down Dan’s wingspan. 

“You have big hands.” He observes, staring down at where Dan’s hand is pressed, palm down on the floor between Jon’s shoes.

“I suppose I do.” Dan raises his arm, and Jon lays his own hand against it. It’s big too, but not as big as Dan’s. 

Slowly, without even consciously thinking about it, Jon shifts his hand so his fingers are brushing against Dan’s knuckles and his thumb is in the center of Dan’s palm. Dan’s hands are rough, callused, but the feeling of skin against skin isn’t unpleasant at all. Jon keeps still for a moment, and then gently but firmly presses his thumb around the center of Dan’s palm in a sort of massage. It’s strange doing the motion to another person; Jon’s done it countless times when his hand has gotten sore from grading papers or writing notes.

He hopes Dan likes the motion. They’ve touched, before, but only in passing. The way that all people do when living together. Touches on the shoulder, on the hand. Pass me this, could you take that. Jon’s never really thought about those touches before. But now he’s glad he has them. He’d like to have more, if Dan’s willing to give it a chance. Come to think of it, Jon hasn’t asked him if this is okay.

“Is this alright?” he asks. As he does so, his fingers shift around, lower, so he’s touching the delicate skin of Dan’s wrist. 

“Fine.” Dan shifts a bit closer so Jon can reach his arm without bending forward as much. His voice is a bit shaky. Jon doesn’t see why. 

Dan’s skin is pale and soft on his wrist. Jon can see the thin veins underneath, blue and purple. Signs of life, just like the wildflowers on the side of the road.  Jon brushes his index finger down the lines, following them until he can’t see any more. Then he focuses on the soft hair on the back of Dan’s arm, where his other fingers are. Soon summer will come, and the soft little hairs will be dyed blonde from the sun. Dan will get a farmer’s tan, too. Jon tries to recall how he looked in June. Will his hair turn lighter under the sun? Will his skin darken under all of its attention? These are all things Jon thinks about as he moves his fingers back up, eventually lacing them with Dan’s. 

Jon makes a soft humming noise and Dan shifts again. His eyes are wide. Does this feel as nice for him as it does for Jon? Jon doesn’t think he’s ever touched someone like this before. A heady, rich sort of feeling comes with the touch. Jon feels powerful; that’s the only way to describe it. The way Dan’s looking at him, he feels like he could ask anything of him and Dan would say yes.

Jon knows himself well enough at this point to understand that he wants to ask Dan for things. He just doesn’t know what those things are.

He tries to examine Dan’s face to see if he’s doing — whatever they’re doing — right, and then he realizes.

Dan is pretty. No, not pretty.  _ Attractive.  _ Devastatingly so. It’s obvious that’s what he is from his head to his toes. Peach fuzz hair, broad shoulders, strong muscles. All of it. It’s not like Jon hasn’t been around pretty people before (he’s spent most of his life around Tommy, for God’s sake, and Lovett isn’t anywhere near ugly), but this is different. The rush in Jon’s veins is unlike anything he’s experienced before. It’s as steady as his heartbeat. It only grows stronger when Dan sits up and faces him, a small smile on his face.

Jon wants. Aches. But he doesn’t know for what. What does he  _ want?   _ To be with Dan like  _ that?   _ They’ve barely touched intimately. Not at all, really. Jon isn’t sure of anything anymore.  He didn’t want to come here in June; turns out here isn’t so bad. What if the opposite is what happens with Dan?

What if Jon opens himself up too much? He couldn’t go back after they do anything like that any more than he could go back to Boston after he came here.

There’s just too many questions. They pop up like buds of flowers in a garden.

And there’s still the tiny matter of Jon’s heats. Dan still hasn’t given any indication that he wants to be around Jon during that time. But then again, Dan hadn’t said anything about a bond up to this point, and yet he didn’t seem upset about the idea of one. 

What if they were bonded? Would that be so bad?

Jon’s shocked out of his reverie when Travis runs up to the porch.

“Dan!” He calls. “A letter for you.  Express delivery.” He looks at Jon. “You should have seen his horse.” He calls as he walks away, gesturing wide with his arms.

Jon pretends to be interested, though he’s really just disappointed that Dan’s not touching him anymore. That warmed him up more than the sunshine did.

“It’s from Alyssa.” Dan says. He tears open the envelope. A postcard falls out, with big loopy handwriting.

Jon knows he shouldn’t be jealous, considering Alyssa isn’t sleeping with Dan, but he's jealous anyway. Especially in light of his newfound knowledge that Dan is very pretty; Jon doesn’t want to share.

“What’s it say?” 

“She’s gone to California.” Dan reads. He doesn’t sound upset. “Meeting a man named Kander.  Says he’s going to build a city and she’s going to help him.”

Jon smiles. “What a lovely idea.”

“I agree.” Dan has a soft smile on his face. Nostalgic. He puts the postcard back in the envelope and places it down next to him.

The words rise up in Jon’s throat before he can stop them. “I guess… I guess you’ll have to stay here during my heats, then.” 

Dan stiffens, like someone has just told him he’s about to be tortured. “We’ll see.” He says quietly.  

With those words, all of Jon’s foolish ideas about bonds and heats and touching fly away like dandelions in the breeze. None of that  _ matters.  _ None of it matters, because Dan doesn’t want to be with Jon during the times Jon wants him most. 

Jon can have Dan, can even touch him a little bit, but he doesn’t get him completely. Because Dan won’t give him over. Jon only gets to see parts of him, the same way the sun only tans part of his skin.

“Are you alright?” Dan asks.  

“Fine.” Jon answers. He’s not going to get upset. He’s not.

He’s just going to enjoy the sun as it starts to set, out over the horizon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Ben Franklin's autobiography was published in 1789.
> 
> Many thanks to @tvietor08 for betaing this for me. Leave a comment if you like, and remember to vote in the midterms!


	12. April

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "In order to thoroughly enjoy anything, one must feel the absence of it at times." - Laura Ingalls Wilder

“Mr. Favreau…”

Jon doesn’t look up from his notepad. “Zoey, go back to your seat.” He’s not quite finished grading everyone’s quizzes yet.

“But, Mr. Favreau, you told us when we were done all our work that we’d go…”

Shit. He did say that, didn’t he? “It’s a long walk.” He offers meekly. Zoey’s standing in front of his desk like an ambassador to the twenty other children in his class. When he looks up from her very small figure, he sees twenty pairs of eyes staring at him in anticipation.

“That’s okay. You always say how young we are.” Eric Swalwell says. “Sir.”

Zoey returns to her desk, while in the back, Louis Virtel raises his hand and begins to talk even though Jon hasn’t called on him yet. “You said we could, sir. You said we could see them.”

“I did.” He looks out the window and leans forward. “It’s pouring rain, guys.”

Immediately everyone starts to protest. “Oh, but Mister Favreau!” “You promised, Mister Favreau, if we got all our work done!” “We don’t care about the rain, Mister Favreau!”

Jon sighs. He’s pretty sure if he doesn’t acquiesce to their demands they’ll replicate the May Day riots. “Alright. But single file. And we walk at my pace, and we do so quietly.”

They all nod eagerly. “We’ll be on our best behavior, Mr. Favreau.”

Jon makes sure they all line up by age, rapping his ruler against the back of his desk to make sure they do it in time. He doesn’t want to be late.  Or, god forbid, early. That would give the kids a lesson he’d rather not give today.

“Of course none of you have umbrellas.” He sighs, looking at all of them bundled up in their raincoats. “Are all of you ready? None of you run off or I’ll be very cross.”

They all nod.

And thus they walk, in the pouring rain, the children in their rain jackets and Jon under his black umbrella. The long trek, down two miles, to Jon’s house.

Lovett’s sitting at the porch of his store, dozing and petting his cat. When he sees the long line of students in their uniforms, he does a double take.

“Hey!” Jon calls. He can’t stop (Lovett will insist on giving out sweets if he does) but he can talk as they walk by.

“Hey, pied piper!” Lovett calls back. He’s laughing. “Where are you taking the kids?!”

“To see a miracle!” Jon says. “We’re on our way to Dan’s!”

“Well, tell me all about it when you get back!” Lovett waves to the kids and they wave back.

By the time they get to the barn, the rain’s coming down in sheets, and the girls and boys race into the big red doors once Jon opens them shrieking and laughing. Dan’s there, in the corner, and he shushes them harshly from his spot by the big nest of blankets and old newspapers.

“You all gotta be quiet.” Jon whispers. “Otherwise you’ll upset her.”

There, in the center of the little nest of hay and blankets and old newspapers, is a sheepdog, and ten tiny black and white bundles.

All of the girls start cooing immediately. Even Jon has to admit, it’s one of the sweetest things he’s ever seen. They’re precious.

“I’ll pass one around,” Dan murmurs, “but we have to be extra careful not to hurt him. And you can’t touch their eyes. Does everyone understand me?”

They all nod, even Jon.  
  
As the kids are marveling over the little puppy, whispering to each other, Jon takes a moment to go over to Dan. The atmosphere is lovely; it’s a warm day, but cooled by the rain outside. On the roof, one can hear the pitter-patter of drops hitting wood. It may be dark within the barn, but the small lamp Dan has up on a ledge casts everything in a golden glow.

“Hey there.” Jon says. “My class missed you.”

“I’m glad they all were able to make it here.” Dan looks over the small crowd. “It was touch and go for a moment, but all ten pups made it.”

“You’re incredible.”

“I didn’t do anything.” He gestures to the mother. “She was the one who was a real trooper.”

“Still.” Jon takes a moment to appreciate Dan’s eyelashes, the soft skin of his cheek, the muscles shifting under his shirt. “Congratulations.”

“Why’re you congratulating me?” Dan smiles. He’s teasing. He does that a lot. It makes Jon feel light and airy, like he’s holding onto a cloud moving slowly in the sky.

“Because,” Jon reaches over and rubs Dan’s back in soothing circles, “you’re a grandfather, aren’t you?”

Dan laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. Jon thinks of candy wrappers. He’s never seen Dan eat candy. There’s still so much to learn about him. Does Dan like chocolate? He’ll have to buy some from Lovett. “I’d like to be a father before I become a grandfather.”

Jon’s about to make another joke, but the sincerity in Dan’s voice throws him off. “You’d like to be a father?”

“Someday.” Dan says it casually, like the information hasn’t shaken Jon to his core.

A year ago Jon would have hated the idea of having kids. Being a servant to some alpha, forced to stay at home and bear children. God, he would have had to have been dragged into the bedroom kicking and screaming. Omegas are supposed to naturally want children - Jon never felt that pull. He could see himself with a big family, sure, but not from the beginning. How was he supposed to take care of a child? He could barely manage to take care of himself.

But now… now it doesn’t sound so bad. After all, he’s had experience working with kids, in his little schoolhouse in his tiny town in Pennsylvania. He’s worked on spelling bees and read books with toddlers. He’s been patient, and has learned to administer discipline without being cruel (something that many of his own teachers never learned to do). He’s felt loneliness, and has seen how children can alleviate that. After all, he sees how happy the couples around him are with their own children. It’s what one does, on the prairie. One has all of this splendor; why not share it with a child? Jon doesn’t have any problem with not having kids; but he could have kids. It wouldn’t be so bad.

The important variable is Dan; would he want to have children with _Dan?_

Jon has seen Dan be gentle. Has seen him gently brush over the leaf of a sprout with his index and forefinger. Has seen him fall asleep in front of the fire, his shoulders relaxed, unlike how they usually are, stiff with the training of a harsh schoolteacher. Has seen him laugh with Lovett in a way that only two old friends can laugh. And he’s seen him bounce Zoey Tur on his leg, making her giggle. He’s good with kids. He’s caring. And he’s happy to provide for the people around him.

And he wants to be a father, someday.

Jon knows what that entails. But he’s not sure Dan does. Dan obviously knows what making babies _means,_ of course (he probably knows more than Jon does), but Jon’s not thinking about that right now. If he does, he’ll get bogged down in the obstacles.

He thinks about other things. The fact that Dan has build the house he lives in and could easily build an addition to it, with room for a crib and a rocking chair. The image of Lovett cooing over a little girl. Tommy tossing a ball back and forth with a little boy. Jon helping his children learn to read. Dan walking home from the fields to have supper with his family.

Jon wouldn’t mind that.

But it’s all abstract, vague.  Not everything destination can be reached in a linear fashion, the way Jon was able to walk with his class across town. And Jon can’t even begin to imagine how he’d get to a family with children from where he is now, sitting in Dan’s barn, watching Emily Black touch a tiny puppy with something akin to reverence.

“Okay.” Jon says. And then, because he doesn’t know when to shut up, he adds, “Me too.”

Dan doesn’t look at him, but the corners of his mouth quirk up. He leans over and nudges Jon a little. It’s yet another touch that Jon didn’t have a month ago. Jon nudges back. It’s a good moment.

Is this flirting? Jon doesn’t know. He’s never really flirted before. The teasing that he did with Tommy way back in the day was too natural to be called flirting. And Jon didn’t really consider anyone else when he was attending university, or even working there. His father was right; his true devotion is education, at least to some extent.

The children have started getting a little restless - Dan gets up with a bit of a groan (old knees, he claims sometimes, as though his knees are somehow older than the rest of his body) and opens the barn door.

It’s stopped raining, and there’s a thin sheen of raindrops on all of the stalks of corn and other crops that have grown in the last two months. Up in the clear blue sky is something Jon hasn’t seen once in all of his time in Pennsylvania: a big beautiful rainbow, stretching almost all the way from one end of the horizon to the other.

“Well isn’t that something.” Dan says, putting his hat back on.

Jon takes a moment to enjoy it before remembering the large group of kids behind him. “Alright, everyone go play for the rest of the class day. But you all better be back at school tomorrow or I’ll be very, very cross!”

They all chorus _thank you Mr. Favreau_ and start to run off. Jon remembers something at the last moment.

“Kids, what do we say?” He gestures to Dan.

They all turn and, with the rushed tone of children eager to go out and play, say, “Thank you Mr. Favreau!” once again.

Jon blinks and turns to Dan, whose cheeks are turning a shade of pink. He chuckles, low in his throat, as they sit down with their backs to the barn that’s the same color as Jon’s bookshelf.

“Sorry. I think they forgot that I took your name, not the other way around.”

“It’s okay.” Dan reaches up with one finger and traces the arc of the rainbow. “You know, I don’t mind being Mr. Favreau.”

Jon closes his eyes slowly and opens them. The image of Dan with his arm raised, one finger pointing out, is remaining in his mind. Jon feels a sort of connection to that image; he doesn’t know why but he relates to the idea of reaching out and trying to touch something that feels so far away. “Yeah?”

“The Favreaus seem like a good bunch. Their son isn’t so bad.” Dan looks at him with an unusual softness. Jon has a strange urge to trace another curve - the line of Dan’s smile, maybe?

That’s been happening a lot lately. But Jon’s not going to do anything about it. There are a lot of things Jon would like to do that he shouldn’t necessarily do, mostly because he can’t really predict the consequences. Jon would have liked to leave this town the minute he got here; but how could he have predicted how happy he’d be? There’s simply no way.

Jon isn’t going to ruin the happiness that he has now. He just isn’t.

“Well…” Jon scratches the back of his neck. Slowly he stands and turns back to where the puppies in the corner are being licked and cared for by their mother. Dan won’t be able to keep all of them; odds are they’ll be left in a little crate by the side of the road. But maybe some of them can go to people they trust; Jon thinks Lovett might love a little puppy. So would Jake Tapper and Chris Hayes. “I don’t really mind being Mr. Pfeiffer.”

Dan whips his head to look at him with wide eyes. “Really?”

“Sure.” Jon doesn’t know why Dan’s so surprised. He’d have left if he didn’t, right? “That Dan Pfeiffer isn’t so bad.”

Dan grins. “Really? He puts food on the table, huh?”

“Makes a mean chicken pot pie. And he knows how to help some puppies get born.” Jon reaches over and squeezes Dan on the shoulder. “He’s a good guy.”

“You know,” Dan says after a moment, “you wouldn’t have said that a while back.”

“Maybe.” Jon shrugs. “But I’m saying that now… Mr. Favreau.”

Dan grins. “I’m very happy to hear that, Mr. Pfeiffer.”

___

Jon Favreau is not happy.

He’d tried. He’d tried very hard to hint to Dan that he’s lonely during his heats. He doesn’t know what to _say._ He’s not even sure if he wants Dan to do more than just sit and talk with him. But he certainly wants Dan there, present, sitting out on the porch or at his spot on the couch. He just wants to talk. Back home, the apartment was so big you couldn’t get away from people. Jon felt like there wasn’t ever a moment of quiet; people were always walking through doorways or sitting at tables whenever you wanted to rest your head. But the upside of that was that Jon could always find someone to talk to, someone to distract from the cramps and the fog in his mind. He has plenty of memories of hanging out on the rooftop of his apartment building with Tommy, in the months after his first heat, when he was still figuring things out. They’d sat on the rooftop of Jon’s apartment and looked out over the skyline, watching each of the lamps light up on the streets as the sun set. Tommy would buy three bottles of soda pop; one for him, two for Jon. Jon would insist that that wasn’t how heats worked, that he didn’t need extra just because of what his body was doing, but he always ended up drinking the second bottle anyway.

That’s what he wants now. It’s the early days of his heat; he doesn’t want an achingly tragic romance or a roll around in the hay like some of his magazines back home would suggest that all omegas want during a heat. He just wants… companionship. Someone to talk to. The house is so lonely when Jon’s the only one in it. Even curling up in the sheets and blankets of his big bed doesn’t help. He wants a friend. He wants Dan to come back from wherever he is.

It’s not fair! Alyssa left for California. Jon read the postcard himself. So where even _is_ Dan?

Is Jon really so disgusting that Dan can’t be around him for more than a few minutes when he’s in heat? An omega’s scent is supposed to be attractive.

Of course, it’s not attractive to everyone, the same way that not all people are attractive to everyone. There have been people Tommy or Lovett thought were attractive that Jon didn’t find attractive (Paul Ryan comes to mind with regards to Lovett).

Jon can say without any hesitation that Dan likes him. He has to; they’ve spent so much time together. So much has changed since Jon got off that big black train in June.  But that doesn’t mean that Dan necessarily is attracted to Jon. For all Jon knows, Dan could be solely attracted to women. Or he could just… not be attracted to Jon. He could think Jon is ugly.

He doesn’t seem to think very highly of Jon’s scent, that’s for sure. But Jon can’t bring himself to care about that. He’s in heat, and he’s feeling selfish.  He doesn’t need anything more than Dan’s friendship and kindness. Dan gives it so willingly for all of the other weeks in the month; why can’t he give it to Jon now?

Jon pulls the blankets up around him and tries to go to sleep, but as he’s about to drift off into unconsciousness, he hears the door open and the sound of pouring rain come into clarity and then fade away again.

That’s odd.

“Jon?” Dan calls. Jon sits up in bed like he’s been sprung out of it. Dan’s back? Willingly?

“Yeah?” He tugs his jeans back on, nearly tripping over himself as he goes out into the living room.

Dan’s poking the fire with the iron, his hair covered in sparkly droplets. His shirt collar is damp, even though Jon sees Dan’s raincoat hanging over a chair at the dinner table.

“You’re back.” Jon can’t hide the happiness in his voice. He’s not alone. He’s not alone!

“Yeah, um.” Dan grabs the washcloth from the counter and rubs over his head, drying himself off. Rain is still coming down in sheets outside. “I’m just stopping by to give you… this.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a small envelope, made of soft brown paper. Jon frowns and takes the envelope. What’s this?

He opens it - it’s not sealed, Dan does these sorts of things in a hurry - and takes out a little over a dozen small slips of paper. Labelled in neat type are train times and the word WASHINGTON in dark ink.

Tickets. To Washington. Jon looks up with wide eyes. “Is this - is this for real?”

“It’s as real as real can get.” Dan smiles and leans against the dinner table. “Courtesy of Mayor Obama. If anyone asks, it’s for you to learn more educational methods while you’re up there. But whatever else you do on your own time…” Dan rolls his eyes and smiles. “That’s up to you.”

“Up to us.” Jon can’t tear his eyes away from the tickets. “You’re coming with me, right?”

“If you want.” Dan sounds shy. Which is ridiculous; they do everything important together these days.

“I do want.” Jon brushes over the edges of the tickets with his index finger. “There’s more than I need here. I’m just taking Katy Tur and a few others.” He takes out a few of the tickets and holds them out. “It might not be too late to return them.”

“Yeah, uh, that’s actually…” Dan scratches the back of his neck. “That’s for some of your class, if you want to take them.”

“... my class?”  
  
Dan looks up and takes a deep breath, like he’s about to say something he’s rehearsed. “Jon, you know as well as I do that education is - is - is the most important thing. And so if you really want to make a difference and get those folks in Congress to understand why they need to protect towns like ours… they should see who they’re taking from.” Dan’s eyes are soft and sweet. “And it would be good for these kids to see a world unlike their own. Who knows? You learn a lot of things when you travel to another place.”

You sure do, Jon thinks. “And… this was mayor Obama’s idea?”

Dan shifts a little bit. “Um, no. I actually suggested that part to him. I thought it would… be a good idea. I hope that’s not too much.” He actually appears to be a little nervous. “If you don’t want them I can try to return -”

And then he’s getting cut off because Jon’s hugging him.  
It’s while he has his arms around Dan, his nose pressing into the soft wool of Dan’s sweater, that Jon realizes he’s never hugged Jon before. He likes it. Dan is tall and muscular, but still soft enough that there’s something to squeeze. He fits perfectly into the crook of Jon’s neck, his fingertips pressing into the cool white of Jon’s shirt. His hair is damp as Jon reaches up and touches the back of his neck. It’s lovely. It’s _wonderful!_

Jon closes his eyes and tries to cement the memory into his mind. Dan Pfeiffer, warm and dry and present. “Dan, you’re brilliant. Thank you.”

He moves back a little to look Dan in the eye and sees… something odd.

Dan’s eyes are wide, his pupils blown out to the point where there’s just a thin line of blue around the edges. His cheeks are pink. He swallows, slowly. Jon watches the movement of his throat. Dan’s nails scratch Jon’s shoulder blades, lightly through his shirt. It makes him shiver, the movement rolling through his body.

For a split second, it seems like something’s going to happen. Something Jon doesn’t fully understand. But he’s not sure it’s unwelcome.

But then Dan breaks away, and looks at the floor. “I, um, I do okay.” His cheeks are very red. It’s a beautiful color.  

He takes another step back, and Jon realizes how much he misses the warmth of being in Dan’s arms already. Perhaps it was better not to let him get too close, if those sorts of touches are going to be few and far between. “I’m going to take a walk.” Dan says quietly.

Jon frowns. “Dan, it’s pouring rain outside.”

“I have a jacket.” Dan’s voice is slightly shakier than it was a moment ago. “I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?” And then he’s grabbing his jacket and walking out the door and into the dark rainstorm outside.

Jon sits down in his chair at the dinner table. He mopes for all of a minute, looking over his train tickets. And then he feels something. A bright warmth within him, like a star has burst inside of him.

_No!_

Maybe Jon’s being selfish because he’s in heat. Or maybe he’s being selfish because he’s just a selfish person. Or maybe, just maybe, Dan sitting with him when he’s lonely and his hormones are going haywire isn’t an unreasonable thing for Jon to want. Either way it doesn’t matter. Jon’s politeness and shyness has simply run out.  
He grabs his own coat off of the hook by the door and rushes out into the pouring rain.

 _April showers bring May flowers, and what do Mayflowers bring? Pilgrims!_ Jon had taught that to his youngest students just last Friday.

Dan’s out by the edge of his property, standing underneath one of the few trees that grows near the road. Dan had been saying the other day that he might plant some more trees. Maybe they wouldn’t grow into anything more than saplings by the time Dan and Jon are both old men with grey in their hair, but still. Jon had been complaining about how the wind had made the house creak and make odd noises; Dan had suggested that as a solution. Yet another kind thing Dan has done for Jon.

Why can’t Dan do this for him? Jon isn’t asking for his entire life. He’s not asking Dan to release all of his livestock into the fields, or for Dan to up and move to Boston with Jon. He’s asking for Dan to sit with him, just for a little while. Just for his company. Jon just needs a little bit more of his kindness.

Is that too much?

Jon has to step a little in the mud to get to Dan. He should have brought his boots. “Dan, you can’t keep running away from me like this.” His voice is raised a little, but only to get heard over the rain.

“Jon, listen -”

“No _you_ listen!” Jon knows that it’s almost unheard of for an omega to talk to an alpha like this. But Dan isn’t like any alpha Jon’s read about in books, and besides, even if he were that kind of alpha, Jon wouldn’t change his tone. “I’m - I’m - it’s not fair! It’s not fair that you get to leave and I’m trying my best to hold it together, but when an omega is in heat they need emotional reassurance, I read about it in my book, it’s not just physical, and you don’t have to stay the whole time, you can go out during the worst of it, but just the first days, that’s all I’m asking, I know you don’t like my scent but please put up with it for just a little while, I’m - I’m - I’m _lonely,_ Dan! The house is so empty without you in it.”

Jon feels the wind rush around him, giving him a chill. His eyes sting.

Dan doesn’t look mad. He looks… confused. There’s a pause; he takes a step forward. The leaves of the trees rustle a bit, getting drops of water on Jon’s shoulders.

“Who said that I didn’t like your scent?”

That throws Jon completely off his axis. What? He… what?

“What are you talking about? I don’t understand.”  Jon’s upset. He doesn’t know what’s going on, and his heat’s making it difficult to think already. He doesn’t get it. What is Dan talking about? If Dan truly didn’t mind Jon’s scent, then why - why would Dan be so distant? Why would Dan hurt him like this? Because that’s what Dan’s been doing. Every time he leaves, he takes a little bit of Jon with him. And it hurts.

“It…” Dan looks very uncomfortable. “It - it’s to do with being an alpha.”

Ah. Yet again, Jon has to grapple with the distance between them due to their different statuses. Why not? It’s part of why Jon hated the idea of coming here in the beginning. He didn’t want to be tied to an alpha. He didn’t want any life like that.  But he doesn’t feel tied to Dan. He just feels the weight of Dan’s absence, month after month.

“Tell me.”

“It’s just…” Dan looks up and away, at the green leaves on the trees. “It’s hard being around an omega in heat. It’s hard being around _you_ when you’re in heat. It’s distracting. You’re distracting. But that’s my problem. It’s more about what’s going on in _my_ head.  Do you know what I mean?”

Jon shakes his head. No, he doesn’t know what Dan means. He’s never been distracted around Dan to the point where he’s felt the need to leave the house. Maybe he would if he were in heat. But he doesn’t know, because Dan’s _never been around him when he’s in heat._ A fact that Jon is not happy with.

But he’s willing to let it go if it means Dan could sit on the couch with him, in front of the fire.

“It’s to do with being an alpha.” Jon repeats. He feels frustration bubble up inside of him.

“It is.” Dan’s expression and tone is apologetic. “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to be a good man.”

There’s wetness on Jon’s face that has nothing to do with the rain. Dan leans down and notices when Jon wipes at his face with his fingers.

“Here, take my -” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his handkerchief. Pale blue, like the sky on a clear day. The kind of blue that Jon’s been drowning in since June.

“It’s just the rain.” Jon says, drying his eyes.

“Yeah.” Dan agrees, though they both know it’s not just the rain.

Jon looks up at him with wide eyes. The handkerchief is just one more piece of evidence that Dan cares about him. That Dan’s his friend.

So why is Jon not satisfied? Why is Jon aching for something more?

 _And why can’t Dan just show him how he feels?_ Dan’s his husband. Aren’t things supposed to be easier with your husband? Would this be any easier if they were bonded? Does it even matter, given that they’re _not?_

“Dan,” Jon pauses so his voice isn’t too wobbly, “if you want to be a good man, _come back to me._ ”

Forget Dan’s reasons for leaving (confusing as they are). Jon just wants Dan to return.

Dan seems to be tortured, faced with a decision he very much does not want to make. It hurts, so so much, that he’s even hesitating. Come on, Dan, Jon thinks. Be my friend. Be kind to me like you’ve been a million times before.

“I’ll stay for the first few days.” Dan finally concedes. “I… I can stay for a few days.”

Jon’s so awash with relief that he doesn’t even have it in him to be disappointed Dan won’t stay for longer.

“Thank you.” Jon reaches over and takes Dan’s hand. “Thank you.”

Dan looks like he’s trembling a little, but he still walks back with Jon through the pouring rain, back to their little house, glowing in the cloudy blue-grey background of the sky. In Jon’s other hand, Dan’s handkerchief whips around in the wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The May Day riots were a series of violent demonstrations that occurred on May 1st, 1894. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/May_Day_riots_of_1894
> 
> Many thanks to tvietor08 for betaing. Remember as always to leave a comment if you like, and to VOTE IN THE MIDTERMS!


	13. May

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Home is the nicest word there is." - Laura Ingalls Wilder

Soft puffs of dust cling to Jon’s ankles as he walks home from the schoolhouse. It’s Friday; the first Friday of summertime. Well, not really - the official start of summer doesn’t come until June. But two things had convinced Jon that summer really had arrived: the day starting with soft, sweet sunshine that seemed to blanket everything on his way to the schoolhouse, giving the leaves on the corn crops a happy green shine; and the polite but persistent whining from his students that “please Mr. Favreau, please let us out early so we can play.” Jon knows that they use his kindness to their advantage, but at the same time, what’s the point of being kind if you can’t let your students out early because of the sunshine?

He likes his walk back to his house, even though it’s gotten warm, lately, and he’s had to tie his jacket around his waist, roll his shirtsleeves up his arms. Last week Dan had declared that it was too hot to wear flannel, and slipped off his shirt right on the porch. Jon’s eyebrows had shot up towards his hair as Dan walked into the living room and changed into one of his other shirts. A white one, made of thin material by design, further softened by time and countless washes. Dan’s black suspenders hung by his side.

Jon feels, sometimes, that he’s kind of like one of Dan’s shirts. A bit of an odd metaphor, but - didn’t he start out guarded and stiff, and was softened over time? Now he’s well worn, in a good way; meant for summertime. Meant for green grass and the chirping of a mockingbird and a blue sky that stretches on forever.

Chris Hayes is sitting on the porch of his law office, his wife beside him in a rocking chair. To Jon’s surprise, Ari Melber is sitting at the stoop, helping little Zoey cut out some paper dolls with an orange pair of scissors. There’s a hint of a baby bump underneath his shirt.

Jon knows better than to ask, but he still smiles about it as he tips his cap to the family. Nature willing, Jon should be as comfortable in his own skin as this family is in theirs.

“Afternoon, folks.” He tips his hat to Katy. She nods at him and returns to her knitting.

“Mr. Favreau.” Chris offers a kind, if tired, smile. He’s surrounded by various small boxes filled with files. A stack of paper is precariously perched on his lap.  “I have to give you my gratitude for releasing my daughter early. It’s not often the whole family gets to be together.”

Jon’s about to say that he’s seen Chris and Katy with their daughter many times, and then he remembers. Ari, in his threadbare outfit, cooing and asking Zoey to play twenty questions with him. Like Jon, Ari has made his own family despite the world being less than kind to him at times.

Then again, has the world even been that cruel to Jon? Sure, it seemed that way in the past. But now… being where he is feels like a privilege.  These things have a funny way of working like that.

Chris stands and, having forgotten the workload on his lap, the stack of papers he was working on falls to the ground and immediately gets strewn about in the breeze. Zoey giggles and Ari and Chris both go out to gather up the loose pages before they fly further down the street. Jon assists.

“Hey,” Chris says, grabbing at one of his papers, “While you’re here, I wanted to, um, thank you for what happened, way back in January.”

Jon gathers up the majority of the stack that has slid down the two stairs leading to the ground and winks at Zoey, who giggles. “Yeah? Bannon and his gang haven’t been back, have they?”

“No, I called on Sheriff Farrow the next morning and he was pretty much able to run him and his gang out of town.” Chris stands, as does Jon. Ari goes back to his spot next to Zoey, chit chatting with Katy. “You and Dan really helped, though. I think seeing so many people under one roof spooked them away.”

“Good.”

“I just…” Chris flashes a crooked smile. “Thank you.”

Jon is so fond of these people. “You would have done the same for Dan and me.” He’s confident in that statement. That’s the important thing about the people in this town. They’re family. And people in a family look out for each other.

Jon is happy to be part of this family. “Congratulations.” He tells Chris.

“For what?” Chris tilts his head.

Jon doesn’t say anything, just nods at Ari and gives a little smile.  
  
“Ah.” Chris looks a little bashful. “Thank you.”

Past the stonemason and the farmer’s market, Jon catches sight of Jake Tapper and Jim Acosta saddling up their horses outside Lovett’s drugstore. Jim is precariously trying to balance a large bag of groceries against the bags along the saddle before hopping on. A can of preserved peaches falls off the top of the bag and rolls onto the ground. Jon leans down and picks them up, and Jim gives him a smile.

“How are you, Jon? Better?” His accent is thick, but his English is good. He has soft, kind eyes.

“I’m good. And you?”

“Very good.” Jim nods and turns to wave at Jake. “Mr. Tapper!”

“Jon!” Jake smiles. “Enjoying the lovely weather?” He rubs the back of his neck, and Jon thinks, huh. Maybe there’s an opportunity here.

“Yeah. Hey Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question? It’s a little personal.”

Jake looks a tad concerned, but he nods. “Go ahead.”

“Are things better with Jim because you’re bonded with him?”

Jake thinks for a moment. “I certainly wouldn’t change things. I’m glad we did it. But it’s not essential, Jon. I’m sure Dan’s feelings are clear even without a bond.” He claps Jon on the shoulder.

Jon wants to say, they’re really not. But he nods and smiles anyway.

Finally, he enters Lovett’s store. It’s earlier in the day, so Jon isn’t surprised that Lovett’s busy. But he will say that he didn’t expect Lovett to be arguing with someone.

“It’s fucking sour, Ryan, it’s sour milk, and I’m quite simply not going to pay for it!” He’s yelling at a man Jon has no interest in talking to - Paul Ryan. “I know what’s real and what’s not, Paul! You can’t fool me!”

Ryan appears to be on the verge of shouting right back, but Lovett holds up a hand. “If you’ll excuse me, I have another customer.” He turns and walks over to Jon. “How can I help you?”

Jon raises an eyebrow. “Your… friend is walking away.”

Lovett looks over at where Ryan is quietly sneaking out the door. “ _Stay!”_ He commands.

Ryan stills like someone’s pointing a gun at his head. Jon takes the moment to wonder if anyone really ever does pay attention to status roles in this town. Then again, those are basically useless, anyway. That’s one thing Jon has learned for _sure_ since he’s left Boston.

Lovett turns back to Jon. “As you were saying.”

“Right.” Jon takes a small envelope out of his knapsack. “For Tommy. How’s he doing, by the way?”

“Bond’s not too specific, but I think he’s doing just fine.” Lovett looks him up and down. “You seem to be doing well.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah. You’re all…” Lovett gestures with his hand. “Glowy.”

“It’s just the sunshine.” Jon shrugs. “It’s good to be back in nice weather.”

“I agree. Listen, I gotta finish arguing with this dummy, but we’ll catch up sometime, okay?”

“Okay. Hey Lovett?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for telling me about Tommy.”

Lovett smiles. “Anytime.”

Once Jon gets to the house, he’s unsurprised to see both that Dan is nowhere to be found and that Travis is out in front of the barn, feeding the chickens. Jon waves at him and goes about his business.

Life is good on the prairie. There’s not as many people around, sure, but that means that there’s not as much noise, either. It’s easier to take a nap or simply be alone with your thoughts.

Jon has a lot more to think about out here. Sure, at home he was filled with the hustle and bustle of university, and he misses that, but… he feels like he grew up a lot, out here.  Living in this tiny town has exposed him to new ways of thinking. He hopes that he’s done the same for the people he’s interacted with.

He peels off his suspenders and takes his spot on the rocking chair out on the porch, secretly glad that Dan doesn’t see how pleased he is to finally get the spot. He likes the rocking chair, sue him.

He hopes Tommy likes his letter. Doesn’t think it’s too forward. But there was a big plot of land for sale near Ira’s bookstore, and the next town over _could_ use a law practice…

Jon stops himself for a moment and thinks. Hmm. Is he the same man he was a year ago? Almost a year ago, exactly? Obviously not, considering he’s actively advocating for someone else to come live near him. He wouldn’t have done that a year ago if you put a gun to his head.

Doubt creeps in, just for a second. What if Jon _doesn’t_ actually like it here? What if he’s just used to it? What if his happiness is just a coping mechanism, to prevent him from being miserable here?

Jon’s a logical guy. He knows, deep in his heart, that that’s simply not true for two reasons: one, he wouldn’t ever bring Tommy somewhere that he himself couldn’t find happiness. That’s just not how they operate. Two, if Jon didn’t like it here, he could have left at any time. No, it wasn’t discussed, but Dan never made him go anywhere he didn’t want to go, or stopped him from going someplace he did. In fact, if Jon wanted to leave, he probably could have done so while Dan was away on his “business trips”.

He’s glad those are over, or at least, that Dan’s more honest about when they actually happen. Because Dan really _does_ help out Mayor Obama. Because he’s a decent guy.

Jon would like to help out Mayor Obama. The man needs a good speechwriter. All of his thoughts are there and they’re good thoughts, but they’re jumbled up, like the butterflies in Jon’s stomach. Maybe if he had someone to write them out, he could be more ambitious.

_Look at you, Jon Favreau. Putting down roots._

The day gets hotter and hotter as time goes on, and while Jon can appreciate the sunshine, he knows he should get up and do something before the rays burn his skin. He squirms from his spot on the porch and thinks of things to do while Dan is out. There aren’t many activities designed for just one person in their little house. From the way Dan talks about being a bachelor, he didn’t like it very much.

Maybe a nice bath will help. Jon looks around.

There’s no one around for miles except Travis, and he’s way out in the fields. Jon should do something that he was never able to do in Boston.  
            He takes the giant silver tub out from the bathroom, carries it behind the house, and fills it up with water from the well. On the tiny piece of wax paper that sits in the bathroom, he grabs the bar of soap. It’s his favorite brand - he’s glad that he’s been able to convert Dan into liking it.

Then he goes outside and, without any preamble, strips off all his clothes and leaves them in a neat pile on the furthest corner of the house. Now it’s just him, bare and naked, and the sun, shining down on him and the rest of the world.

He is so glad that summer has arrived.

The water is ice cold but it feels good on his skin. He squeezes the little sponge from their bathroom, humming a little, and allows the water droplets to run down his shoulders, his chest, and between his legs. It feels good to do this out in the open. A treat, like one of Tanya’s pastries, or a fresh bouquet of flowers on the table. He should pick some along the side of the road the next time he comes back from Lovett’s drugstore.

It’s lovely, the sun beating down on him, the water clear and cold. Jon wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.  He hums a little tune as he sponges himself down; the tub itself is too small to sit, but he doesn’t feel vulnerable standing, out where no one can see him. Such are the little pleasures of living in the countryside.

There are lots of pleasures of living in the countryside.  
  
He squeezes the sponge full of water over his bare skin, turning a warm brown with his own farmer’s tan - he forgot a towel, but it’ll take all of a couple of minutes to dry himself off -  
  
“Hey, Jon, Travis told me you were out here, I -"  
  
Jon turns and looks over his shoulder and sees Dan standing there, still as a statue, his lips parted slightly. His eyes are dark as he slowly looks up the line of Jon’s legs, past his hips, up to his face.  
  
Their eyes meet and Jon inhales sharply. It’s like a switch has been turned on in the back of his mind. He feels a long, slow flush creep up from his chest to his neck.  
  
Dan’s only six feet away, so Jon can see that he’s following the change in color with his eyes.  But then he comes back up, back to Jon’s face.

Time seems to stop. A hurricane could come, a tornado. The world could end and they’d still be looking at each other. They only stand there, holding each other’s gaze, for a few seconds but it feels like hours.

“ _Dan._ ” Jon finally manages to say. His voice is low and raspy.

That’s when Dan’s eyes widen and he practically races away.

Jon practically trips over himself in his effort to get out of the tub, but he stops suddenly, unable to move.

There, standing bare in the soft grass beside the house that Dan built, Jon realizes something.

Dan wants him.

No, Dan wants him _back._

Jon has known, for a while, actually, that Dan cares for him. That he loves him, even, the same way that Tommy and Lovett love him. But he hasn’t considered that while Dan’s love might be as strong, his feelings aren’t the same as Tommy or Lovett’s. He wants Jon.

He wants Jon the same way Jon wants him.

Jon’s never vocalized it. He’s never even thought about it in more than an abstract way. But he wants Dan; has wanted him long before he caught Dan touching himself. Somewhere along the way, a match has been lit in Jon’s heart. Jon wants Dan, wants to kiss him and touch him and make love with him the same way alphas and omegas all over the world do every day. And there’s nothing wrong with that. No

He just needs to find him.

He scrambles into his clothes, grateful to the sun for drying him off quickly. Shit. Okay. What to do now? What do you do when you realize that your own husband actually loves you back?

Dan’s not in the house when Jon comes back inside. Jon asks Travis, who’s in the barn, shushing their tiny colt (she didn’t have a name, but Tommy dubbed her Lucca and that’s what she’s called now), and Travis says he’s back out in the fields.  
That’s fine; standing in the doorway of the barn, Jon realizes something else.  

He’ll come home. Jon loves Dan and Dan loves him, so he’ll always come home. He’s left Jon many times, whether because he’s been nervous or distracted or simply busy with work, but he’s always come back. Jon doesn’t have to rush this confrontation. He can take his time and think about this.  Because Dan’s not going anywhere.

So what to do now?

Jon sits on the porch for about five minutes on the off chance that Dan comes back, but then he goes with his alternative plan. One that is probably better, anyway.

He goes to Lovett’s.  Because Lovett is his best friend. Lovett is his anchor, his rock, and in some ways he’s been the most important person in helping Jon and Dan get together. After all, without Lovett, Jon wouldn’t even be here.

Jon got to see the romance between Lovett and Tommy bloom like a wildflower by the side of the road. Small but steady, reaching for the sky. Lovett gets to know about how Dan loves Jon.

Hopefully. Jon’s not 100% sure, or anything. He’s 99% sure, but… as he’s taught his students, 99% is not everything.

There’s one final realization that Jon has, about an hour into his stroll into town.

He’s in heat. No, it’s not a strong feeling, just the slightest hint of an ache somewhere in his chest, but it’s there. Hm. That’s funny. Did Dan do that? Jon doesn’t think that he’s ever had a heat triggered by someone else before.

… Or maybe he has, way back, almost a year ago exactly.

The little bell at Lovett’s store rings and Pundit follows Jon’s movements with his eyes at he enters.

“Hey there, you’re back.” Lovett stands from his spot near the cash register, putting his book down.

“I am. Listen, something important happened.”

Lovett looks a little concerned. He touches the bondmark on his neck when he asks, “is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I think Dan loves me.” Jon can’t help his smile.

Lovett does not give the response Jon thought that he would give. He sort of raises an eyebrow and shakes his head a little, as if to say, _is that it?_

“Yeah…” Lovett tilts his head. “I don’t understand. Did you not know that?”

Jon doesn’t want to say _no, I didn’t know that,_ so he just stays silent for a moment. That seems to be enough for Lovett to put two and two together.

“Oh my God, Jon, are you fucking stupid?”

Jon shrugs. “Occasionally. It really depends on what I’m talking about.” He grins.

“Of course Dan loves you. He loves you like - like -” Lovett waves his hands around, unable to come up with a word.  
“If you say so.  I haven’t… exactly… talked to him about it.”

“Oh?” Lovett raises his eyebrows. “So you came to this sudden earth-shattering realization about Dan’s very obvious love for you -”

“Lovett -”

“- and you decided _not_ to confront Dan about it, but to come to me… why?”

“Because,” Jon declares confidently, “I have a plan.”

“A plan?”

“You heard me. I actually need to buy a few things.”

Lovett grins. “Alright. Tell me what you need for your night of seduction.”

“Lovett!”

“Well, that’s what it is, if you’re asking _your own husband_ to go steady with you!”

“I’m aware of the absurdity of the situation.” Jon rolls his eyes. “Just help me get these things, will you? It’s the ingredients for chicken pot pie. And I need a bottle of coconut oil, too.” Jon hopes that Lovett doesn’t catch how his face warms up at the last request.

“Alright.” Lovett looks down at the list. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, um. So I’m in heat, and…” Oh boy. This is nerve-wracking.

“You need suppressants?” Lovett blinks at him.

“No, uh, I’m actually looking for…” Jon squirms a little. “I was wondering if you had… condoms?”

Lovett’s eyes go as wide as dinner plates. “Jon.”

“Yeah?” His voice is a little squeaky. Boy, this is awkward.

“Does this mean you’re…”

“... Doing it the old-fashioned way? Hopefully.” Jon gives him a shy little smile.  
Lovett holds up his hands. “I know nothing’s happened yet, but I just want you to know that when it happens, I want to hear details.” He turns around. “I think I have a box of condoms somewhere. Remember you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, right?”

“I know.” Jon is so fond of his friend. “What, you’re not going to tease me about being a virgin? Give me some advice?”

“Only advice I have to give you is to make sure you’re doing it with the right person, and you’ve already accomplished that. Or, you will.” Lovett wrinkles his nose. “You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

“Besides,” Lovett grins, “you know more than I do.”

“How do you figure?”

“You’ve got that book of yours.”

___

Jon knows that he could ask Dan how he feels as soon as Dan gets back from the fields. But he doesn’t want to. He wants to take his time. He wants to do this right.

He’s also a little bit nervous. What if… What if he’s wrong? He’s almost sure he’s not wrong, but if he is there’s no turning back. No turning around the train. No going back to Boston.

So Jon allows himself one more day. Less than that, even. He allows himself one night of sleep and lunchtime the next day.

He just wants to be ready. He doesn’t want Dan to run away just because he’s in heat. This is only the second time that Dan’s agreed to stay for the first few days, and while he seems to be handling things pretty well, Jon just wants to make sure he’s not going anywhere.

He might go somewhere when Jon tells him he loves him. But Jon doesn’t think that. He’s not worried that Dan’s going to be scared or run away. He’s just worried… Dan doesn’t feel exactly the level of love and affection that Jon feels for him.

Oh, Jon’s been in denial for a while, hasn’t he?

He makes Dan and himself chicken pot pie, and tries not to stumble over himself when Dan gets too close. Dan’s been awfully quiet since he caught Jon bathing yesterday. That makes sense. Jon was pretty quiet and nervous when he caught Dan touching himself, so many months ago.

He hopes he doesn’t freak out like that if he gets in a similar situation in the future.

The evening is cool, with a stiff breeze that harkens back to the cold winter that preceded the season. It’s enough for Dan to get a fire going, though he lets it settle into a low flame that sinks further and further into the embers as time goes on.

Jon takes a bath (indoors this time) and puts on his nicest pair of black slacks, and a thin white shirt, a clean canvas against his black suspenders. He spends an hour or so sitting in front of the fire, thinking about his life. Thinking about how it’s going to change. Hopefully for the better.

Dan’s been sitting on the couch, reading his book. His reading glasses are perched so far down his nose that they seem on the verge of falling off, and yet they never do. Jon doesn’t know how Dan does that.

Jon’s been able to think about these things because he’s been pacing. He knows what his plan is, but now it’s a matter of actually carrying it out. He’s nervous. He needs a push.

Dan’s always there at the right time to give him that push, whether he knows it or not. “Jon.” He looks up from his book. “You’re pacing. You pace when you’re thinking about something. What’re you thinking about?”

Okay. Focus, Favreau. “Nothing. I just… did you know it’s been almost a year since we got married?”

Dan closes his book and sets it on the side table. “I… haven’t thought about that, but yes, it is, isn’t it?”

“We… um.” Jon turns to look at him. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. “We did all of the normal parts of marriage, right?”

“I wouldn’t call our marriage conventional, but I don’t see that as a bad thing.” Dan offers a little smile. “Yes, we went through the motions. Why, is there a problem?”

“No, there’s no problem, I just… I was thinking about it, yesterday, and I realized…” Take a deep breath. Relax. This is your friend you’re talking to. Nothing bad’s going to happen. “We never consummated our marriage. Properly.”

Dan sits up straight in his spot. He looks pretty surprised, his eyebrows raised. “Y-yeah?”

“Yeah. And I was thinking, maybe, if you’re willing…” Jon has to take a moment to make sure his voice isn’t wobbly. “We could do that… now?”

Dan’s eyebrows raise even higher. His lips part slightly.

Slowly, with shaking hands, Jon undoes the buttons of his shirt one by one. Then, once they’re all done, he slides the fabric off of his shoulders and lets it fall to the floor. Now he’s bare from the waist up, open to Dan’s gaze once more.

And Dan’s looking.

“Jon?” He asks. His voice is quiet, cautious. Unsure of what’s happening.

But Jon’s not done, so he walks forward, and in one smooth motion swings his legs up and straddles Dan’s waist, putting his hands on Dan’s shoulders. He’s glad that they’ve touched so much more in the last few months; each intimate touch, especially one like this, burns Jon’s skin like a flame.

Dan’s eyes are wide, searching. It’d be almost comical if the stakes weren’t so high.  His hands are in the air, unsure where he can touch, where he can rest his fingertips.

“Dan, listen -”

“I’m listening.” Dan replies before Jon can finish his sentence. His tone says _I’m listening very, very intently._

So Jon starts talking. “I know that… this last year has been strange, for both of us, but - but it’s given me some of the happiest moments of my life, and I know it’s taken me such a long time to say it -”

Jon can’t help it. He reaches up and cups Dan’s face, softly, tenderly, brushing his thumbs over Dan’s cheeks, under those beautiful blue eyes he’s grown so fond of. He feels tears well up in his own eyes.

“I love you, Dan Pfeiffer. And - and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Dan’s hands finally settle on Jon’s hips. His eyes, filled with wonder and curiosity, finally settle into something different. Something like awe. And then, like sunshine peeking out behind the clouds after a long winter, a big bright smile appears on Dan’s face. Pure, unadulterated happiness.

He squeezes, lightly. It’s an intimate touch. It makes Jon shiver and giggle a little, despite how emotional he’s getting. Or maybe because of it.  
“Dan,” Jon says, “please tell me you love me back so that I don’t feel ridiculous and have to go panic somewhere else.”

Dan’s grin grows impossibly wider, this time in laughter. “Jon, I thought you’d never ask.”  And then he leans in and kisses him.

Jon may have wanted a different, fancy wedding a year ago. He may have wanted a big party with his family and friends and some nice blonde alpha that looked like something out of his magazines. But this kiss? Right here, on Dan’s couch, in the little house he built, in their little town in Pennsylvania? This is a wedding. A proper one, nothing like the strange series of technicalities he went through a year ago.  Jon would very much like to be with Dan, till death do they part. He has no problem with that, none at all.

Kissing Dan is everything Jon wanted it to be. Everything. It’s more than his storybooks, more than the salacious stories he read as a teenager, more even than the book he read to teach his students about healthy mating habits - it’s more than all of that. None of those stories told him about the simple joy of kissing someone you love.

Dan’s a good kisser. (Jon wouldn’t really know; he doesn’t have too much to compare it to. But damn, does it feel good.)

They finally break away. Dan rests his forehead against Jon’s. “I love you,” he gasps out. “I love you, I love you, I love you so much, I -”

Jon would very much like to hear more about how much Dan loves him, but he really just has to kiss him again. And again. And then a few more times, just for good measure.

There are some moments, in books, that are so good in terms of narrative tension or simple description of the scene that they deserve to be read multiple times before moving on; if this is Jon’s story, then he’s sure he’s allowed to reread this part more than once.

“Jon.” They break away again; Dan begins pressing small kisses to Jon’s jawline. Insistent; affectionate. “Jon.”

“Yes?” Jon giggles. He’s having a great time. “How’s it going?”

“You’re in heat.” Dan’s slowly breathing in around Jon’s neck.

“You - uh - you didn’t notice?” Jon is not used to being… worshipped. But it’s not an unpleasant feeling.

“I was distracted by my husband telling me I could touch him.” Dan moves to look him in the eye again. “I _can_ touch you, right?”

“Yes.” Jon’s giddy with happiness. “Yes, you can touch me, Dan. You can touch me all you’d like.”

“Good.” And then there are soft, wet kisses being pressed against his neck. “God, Jon…”

“I agree.”

They must stay there for five, ten minutes, exchanging kisses. Each one produces a strange feeling in Jon’s heart; they’re simultaneously balms for the burning in his chest and kindling on the fire. Jon hasn’t kissed someone since secondary school. He hopes that he’s okay at it. The soft, whimpering little sounds that Dan’s started to make seem to be an indication that he’s doing just fine.

Eventually Dan moves down to his neck and starts pressing kisses at his shoulders, pushing him up so he can mouth at his collarbone. “Um, what you said earlier…” Dan murmurs, “about consummating our marriage…”

Jon shivers. They’re married. They’re really married! A year’s worth of courtship after the actual wedding. But this feels right. This feels good.

“Yeah?”

“Do you really want to do that?” Dan looks up. His eyes are big and bright and searching.

“Well, I wouldn’t have come to you while I was in heat if I didn’t want you to. I also wouldn’t have suggested it.” Jon feels a bit bashful. He _seduced_ Dan. He can barely believe it himself.

Dan leans back down and inhales deeply around Jon’s pulse point. “You’re in heat.” He mumbles. He sounds very pleased with this observation.  
“You didn’t notice? You said it distracts you. I still don’t really know what that means, by the way.” That’s not entirely true. Jon has spend maybe twenty minutes in Dan’s arms, and he’s found that Dan’s paintbrush eyelashes, the hint of whiskers on his cheeks, and the thin ring of blue around his pupils to be incredibly distracting.

“Jon…” Dan chuckles a little. “Someday I’m going to have to find you a book on what it’s like to be an alpha. Do you realize how… _tempting_ you are during heat?”

Jon’s never really thought of himself as tempting during anything. “No.”

“Well, you are. That’s why -” His smile falters a little and he presses a kiss to Jon’s collarbone, “why I left, so many times.”

Jon leans in and hugs Dan tight. He’s long since gotten over his anger towards Dan for not staying with him during his heats, but it still hurts, just a little bit. “I thought you hated me.”

“Never. Never hated you. I just didn’t… didn’t want to do something I’d regret, because I wasn’t sure you wanted it.” Dan reaches up and brushes his thumbs over Jon’s cheeks.

“Like what?”

Now it’s Dan’s turn to blush. “Like this.”

More kissing. Deep, wet kisses. Dan slides his tongue along the seam of Jon’s lips and then their tongues are touching and oh, God, Jon has never done this before but he decides he likes it a lot.

When they break away, Jon feels slightly dazed. He knows he has a goofy grin on his face. “I don’t think I would have minded that.”

Dan quirks an eyebrow up. “You sure?”

The thing is, no, he’s not sure. That’s part of why this moment - sitting in Dan’s arms, finally getting to kiss and touch the man with whom he’s so deeply in love - seems so important. They didn’t fall in love at first sight.  Jon hated Dan, at first. But he had no reason to. And over the course of a year, he fell in love.

Jon doesn’t know how to say that he’s okay that it took him a year to sort out his feelings without sounding strange, so he just sort of shrugs and whispers, “Now is now,” because it is. It sounds silly, but Dan nods. He understands.

“I wanted you for so long, you know that?” Dan’s voice is soft, reverent. It makes Jon want to move and snuggle closer to him, so he does. “Since the first few months you got here.”

Jon freezes. The first few _months!_ Oh, that must have been awful! Jon can't imagine feeling the way he felt last night for months and months. “I’m sorry, Dan, I didn’t know, and, I wasn’t sure -”

“Shh. You were still figuring things out. I wouldn’t have wanted you to push yourself.” Dan shrugs. Jon can see that there’s some hurt, there, though. Probably always will be.

He tries to kiss it better.

“What were we talking about?” Jon’s a little dazed. Partially from the growing fog of his heat, and partially because Dan’s kisses are the kind of kisses that make Jon unable to think about anything else except when the next one will come.

“Sex.” Dan’s eyes are dark when he looks up at him from his spot around Jon’s shoulder. He’s resting there casually.

“Right.” Jon grins. “Do you want to do that? With me?”

“Jon,” Dan says, “I want to do whatever _you_ want to do.”

A shiver runs up Jon’s spine, starting from where Dan’s fingertips are holding him at the small of his back. He’s reminded that he’s not wearing a shirt. “I want to do everything.”

Dan rolls his eyes. “Don’t say that. Next thing you know you’ll be bonded to me.”

“We could do that.” Jon says quickly. He hope he doesn’t say it _too_ quickly. He doesn’t want to sound too eager, in case Dan was just making a joke.

But the way Dan looks at him, it doesn’t seem like he was making a joke. “Really?”

“I’d…” Jon squirms a little. “I’d like to do some of the other things first, but. I love you. A married couple should be bonded, shouldn’t they?” He’s suddenly reminded of Tommy and Lovett. How even with hundreds of miles between them, they still operate as one unit, able to talk to each other through colorful emotions and abstract but present messages.

Jon wouldn’t mind that. Jon wouldn’t mind that at all.

Dan doesn’t seem to be averse to the idea either, from the way that he’s smiling. His eyes are a little misty.

“Hey, don’t cry…” Jon reaches out and brushes along Dan’s cheek, down to the faint whiskers on his chin. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know. So,” Dan wipes at his eyes and leans in for a quick, closed-mouth kiss, “we were talking about - about going a bit further?”

Jon has to bite back a giggle. Oh, he’s in for a treat, isn’t he? There had been a small sliver of a thought in his mind, towards the end of last month, that maybe Dan didn’t ever propose sleeping with Jon because he didn’t like sex. That was very clearly off the mark.

“Shall we go to the bedroom?” Jon moves to stand but Dan gently tugs him back down.

“In a second.” Dan leans up and pecks him on the lips. Then he kisses him more deeply, and Jon gets distracted for a bit.

Dan’s hands are wandering. It feels heavenly.

Eventually they untangle themselves from each other and stand. Jon takes Dan’s hand, and leads him to the bedroom.

It’s at the doorway that Dan hesitates, biting his lip, rocking back onto his heels.

“Everything okay?” Jon asks.

“Yeah, just. This is your room.”

Jon shrugs. “It used to be your room.”

“Yeah, but. It’s your room, now. It has been for a year.”

Dan looks sincere, incredibly sincere. Jon feels a tingle spread from his chest, moving out to his fingertips.

Dan’s been protecting himself as much as he’s been protecting Jon from himself. He’s stopped himself from entering Jon’s bedroom whenever possible. This was supposed to be their marital bed. This was supposed to be where they’d start making a family, a year ago. Jon hated him back then, and Jon knows that Dan doesn’t fault him for that, but it still must have hurt. To walk past the one bedroom in the house that used to be his, knowing he wouldn’t be able to enter it.

Well, he’s allowed to enter it now. This is their bedroom.

Jon takes Dan’s hand and leads him across the threshold. Because that’s how it works. Sometimes Jon leads and Dan follows. Sometimes Dan leads and Jon follows. That’s how they operate. They work together.

Dan wanted an extra pair of hands, and companionship. Jon has given that to him, and has received an extra pair of hands and companionship a thousandfold.

They tumble onto the bed together, tangled up in each other. Dan’s on top of him and it’s that point that Jon realizes he’s shirtless but Dan’s still wearing all of his clothes.

“You’re still clothed,” He murmurs into Dan’s neck, “that’s not very fair, is it?”

Dan reaches down around Jon’s hips, as if he wants to touch between Jon’s legs but he’s waiting for permission. “I’ll get undressed, but then I have to move.”

Jon takes the initiative and squeezes Dan’s cock where he can see it pressing against the denim of his pants. “Take your clothes off and then I can touch you more.”

Dan’s eyes close as Jon touches him, squeezes down the long line of his cock. He hasn’t touched anybody like this. Not Tommy, not the few shy romances he had at university. He’s never done this before. He hopes he’s doing a good job.

Dan seems to be enjoying it from the way he’s gently rocking into Jon’s touch. But eventually he snaps out of it and stands up to take his clothes off.

Jon lies back on the bed and takes the opportunity to watch Dan undress without feeling guilty or nervous. It seems obvious, now, that he wants Dan. He’s just been denying it, every time Dan’s stripped off his shirt right in front of him, and he’s hidden behind his book, or his knitting.

No need to hide now. Jon can freely stare at the freckles on Dan’s shoulders, the smooth muscles on his back. And his ass, which is very cute.

Dan takes everything off and turns around, shrugging a little. “Well, this is me.” He sounds a bit bashful.

He’s beautiful, Jon has no doubt about that. He has a lovely tan, spread all over his chest from all the time he’s spent in the sun without a shirt, gardening or simply resting. Jon admires everything from the muscles in his arms to the hint of softness around his navel, a sign that he never misses a meal.

And, of course, Jon admires his cock, thick and long and flushed with arousal. There’s a little bit of precome at the end of it that probably left a spot on Dan’s trousers.

“You’re gorgeous.” Jon says. Then, after a moment, he says, “you’re big.” It’s just a fact. Dan is big all over.

Dan rolls his eyes and smiles. “They teach you all that flattery up in Boston?” He crawls onto the bed and carefully boxes Jon in, leaning on his elbows. “Now you’re the one who’s overdressed.”

Jon obediently lets Dan’s clever fingers undo his belt and the buttons of his pants. Dan slides them off, tosses them to the side, and then they’re both naked, bare to each other.

Jon didn’t think that Dan’s hand between his legs, carefully stroking his cock, would feel so good. But damn, it feels good. It’s easy to roll his hips a little bit, ask for more without really saying anything.

They do that for maybe ten minutes without saying much. Jon’s hand is on Dan’s dick and Dan’s is on his, and they’re kissing. After a little while, Dan shifts a bit, and their cocks are closer, their hands touching while they stroke each other. Sometimes the sensitive tip of Jon’s cock touches Dan’s, and that feels good. Intimate. Jon’s only just now figuring these things out, but he thinks he’s getting the hang of it.

“Wait, I have something for this.” Jon leans over to his nightstand and pulls out the little bottle of coconut oil.

Dan gives him a pleased look — almost proud — and applies some to his fingers, making his strokes even slicker and more pleasurable. They continue with that for a couple of minutes, Jon quietly telling Dan when he likes something more than something else. This is all very new for him.

“Can - can I suck you, for a bit?” Dan asks. Jon nods. Dan quickly leans up to peck Jon on the lips and then slides down to Jon’s waist.

And then Dan’s mouth is on him, and it’s hard to think.

“Oh, oh, _oh!_ ” Jon grips at the bedsheets with one hand and puts his other hand on the soft peach fuzz of Dan’s hair, his fingertips fluttering around the little scarred area of the shell of his ear where he got frostbite a couple of years back. It’s all wet warmth, light suction and every movement of Dan’s tongue is like electricity.

Jon doesn’t need to be in heat to think _yes, take me, own me._ But eventually it’s too much and Jon feels the familiar feeling pool at the base of his dick.

“Alright, alright, enough - Dan!” Jon giggles and gasps a little when Dan gives sucks on the head of his cock _hard_ before pulling off.

Dan idly rests his chin on Jon’s hip, playing with his balls with one hand. “Hi there.”

Jon tries to steady his breathing. It takes effort. “Get up here.”

They roll around for some time, exchanging kisses. Kissing Dan might be the best thing in life. Better than chicken pot pie. Better than bathing outside (though not by much). Eventually Jon ends up on top again.

“Hey.” Jon says. He leans in and pecks Dan on the cheek. His face is a little scratchy; he hasn’t shaved in a day or two.

“Hey.” Dan replies. His eyes are bright and sparkling.

“I want you.” Jon says. His whole body thrums with the statement.

“You have me.” Dan’s voice is low and tinged with arousal. “Be more specific.” His hands are wandering up and down Jon’s back and it feels nice.

“I want you inside me.” There, Jon’s said it.

“We can do that. Do you want to be on your hands and knees, or…?” Dan tilts his head slightly.

Jon thinks for a moment. “Can - can we do it like this? I’d like to see your face when - when you knot me.”

Dan shivers a little underneath him. “We most certainly can do that. Do you want to kiss and touch a bit more? I want you to be comfortable…” His eyes flicker down between Jon’s legs.

“Dan.” Jon takes one of Dan’s hands and guides it between his legs, under his dick, where he’s wet. “I’m ready.”

“You’re —“ Dan looks like he was about to start saying something else but got surprised by how wet Jon is. “Oh my God, you’re _soaked.”_

Jon plays coy. “That tends to be what happens, Dan.”

“Yeah…” Dan’s fingers play around there idly, tracing around his rim, before he remembers what he was going to ask. “Um, are you sure about this? I don’t want you to, to do this because we’ve done other stuff, or because you feel like you have to…”

“Dan.” Jon reaches down and helps him slowly press a finger inside of Jon. “I want to.”

There’s no discussion of the condoms, nearly sitting in Jon’s bedside table. Jon hasn’t mentioned them. Dan hasn’t stopped the proceedings. They both know. Jon wouldn’t have it any other way.

Dan’s fingers slowly slide deep inside Jon, working him open. It feels good; better than when Jon does it himself. Then Dan brushes over that spot that Jon loves and it feels _really_ good. Incredible, actually.

“Oh, fuck, _yes_ that feels good, please don’t stop, Dan, please —“ Jon rocks onto Dan’s fingers and doesn’t bite back the moan that rises in his throat. He has no one to hide from. And besides, it feels so good that he doesn’t think he could stop himself from making noise if he tried.

“Going to do this for a while, okay? Want you to be nice and ready,” Dan smiles up at him, “when you get my knot, okay? You want my knot, sweetheart? You want me to fill you up and make you mine?”

Jon takes issue with that comment in only one aspect. “I’m already yours.” He says with a breathless laugh, arching up and screwing himself down on Dan’s fingers.

“Yeah.” Dan’s voice reminds Jon that he’s an alpha. It’s rough and low. “Yeah you are.”

Jon might have hated that, a year ago. The idea of being owned would have made him recoil in horror. But now he knows better. Dan isn’t just saying that he owns Jon; he’s saying that Jon owns him, too. They belong to each other.

“Fuck me.” Jon whispers. He suddenly feels so desperate for Dan’s cock he could cry. “Fuck me, Dan, please, please —“

“Just a moment.” Dan curls his fingers inside Jon. “I wanna make sure you’re prepared.”

“Dan, please —“

“You said yourself I’m big.” Dan smirks. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Jon nods but his frantic energy doesn’t go away.

For a moment there’s nothing but the soft, wet sounds of Dan’s fingers inside him.

Dan shifts, moves, and lifts Jon’s hips. “I’m going to get inside you, alright?”

“Okay.” Jon can’t hide his smile.

And then Dan is lining himself up, and carefully, very carefully, lets Jon sink onto him.

It feels exactly how Jon wanted it to feel, all those times he was imagining it, late at night in his empty house. The pleasure is different than the normal pleasure Jon associates with sex. It’s specific to his being in heat. It’s like the ache that has been sitting deep inside him in every heat that he’s had since he turned sixteen has finally been soothed. He feels full in the best way. It’s like a promise being fulfilled.

And then Dan puts his hands on Jon’s hips and starts to move.

At first it doesn’t feel like much, while Jon is adjusting and trying to find the right angle. But then Dan sits up a little, grabs a pillow from his left side and puts it under his head, and with his hand on the small of Jon’s back, thrusts up into him, slowly. Jon’s able to rock back and forth a little at that angle. _That_ motion feels good. Feels really good, actually. At one point Dan hits just the right spot and the pleasure is… _immense_ , spilling out from within him like a pail of water overflowing. He knows he’s making noise. He doesn’t care. Dan certainly doesn’t seem to mind.

Jon doesn’t know what to say. A little part of him wants to say thank you. But this is a joint effort. It’s a strange way of thinking about it, but falling in love with Dan took effort. It took work. It took getting used to and finally loving his tiny town in Pennsylvania and everything that came with it, including Dan. The feeling of Dan’s big cock sliding in and out of him, hitting the spot that makes shivers run up his spine? That’s just a bonus.

He doesn’t know what else to say, so he just looks into Dan’s eyes. His big expressive eyes that have captured Jon’s attention since day one.

“You have beautiful eyes.” Jon gets out. His voice sounds different, even to him. “A very pretty blue. Like the sky.”

“Th-thank you.” Dan says. His voice is similarly wrecked, straining with exertion. “Your eyes are pretty, too.”

It’s like they’ve done everything out of order. Marriage first, then courtship, and now flirting.

“We mixed things up.” Jon gets out. He leans back a little and rolls his hips so he can get every inch of Dan inside him. “We did this backwards. Not exactly - uh - unconventional.”

Dan switches from long easy thrusts to quick, staccato movements. “Who said I wanted conventional?”

Jon wants Dan to touch him but he knows if he does it won’t allow Dan to thrust up into him in a way that is as satisfying for either of them. So he plants his knees down across Dan’s waist, and carefully, maintaining balance, begins to stroke himself with one hand.

It’s heavenly. Really, it’s better than anything he’s ever done himself.  It makes it hard to breathe, it feels so good. The fire that started with a little lit match the first time he saw Dan in a context that was less than platonic has consumed him, swallowed him whole. He welcomes it.

Jon’s not touching himself at the same rhythm that Dan is fucking him; though Dan’s lost most of his rhythm, his thrusts deep with little movement, as if he’s trying to stay in Jon for as long as possible. Jon doesn’t mind it; he kind of likes that it’s out of rhythm. Dan doesn’t make much noise, but Jon catches a whimper or two. Jon knows the feeling. Dan is _big,_ thick inside him, stretching him ever so slightly. It’s good, it’s _too_ good, and all of it combined with Dan’s eyes, wide and searching Jon’s face, searching for what Jon likes, is too much, and Jon spills over his own hand with a sharp cry, his orgasm rolling through him.

Fuck, it feels good. Better than anything he’d be doing by himself, that’s for sure. But he doesn’t focus on it for too long because then Dan’s thrusting into him hard, and with a choked off groan he’s coming, deep inside Jon, filling him up with his come, and - _oh!_

In the books Jon read when he was younger, the ones he wouldn’t dare let anyone else see him reading, the omegas always screamed when they were knotted. Jon doesn’t scream, but he sure does understand why someone would. Dan’s knot is _big,_ thick and stretching him wide, and if Jon thought he was full before, well, this is something different entirely.

“ _Jon.”_ Dan says. It sounds a little like a sob. Or a prayer. Jon’s not sure. His brain is fried.

They lie there, like that. Knotted. Joined. One unit. Jon’s shaking. He doesn’t know why. Maybe he’s just overwhelmed. But the good kind of overwhelmed.

Dan’s fingertips are just barely tracing designs along Jon’s back. Their foreheads are touching. Jon feels like he might cry. He’s _happy._ He’s incandescently happy. His alpha has filled him up. Later he’ll bond with him. All things that husbands should do with each other.

“Dan.” Jon croaks out. “I’m not letting you leave during my heats ever again.”

Dan’s laugh rings throughout the room.

They sit there for a few more minutes, Dan shallowly thrusting into him, almost as if he himself doesn’t realize what he’s doing. “You feel good.” Dan murmurs. He sounds very pleased with himself. “Fuck, Jon, you feel so good. Are you alright? Is - was that okay?”

“Dan, that was… incredible.” Jon leans forward slightly and kisses him.

That seems to give Dan the spark he was looking for. “Um, if you don’t mind… I could actually come again.”  
  
Jon raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Don’t look at me like that. You’re in heat, I’m sure you could too.”

Jon thinks for a moment. “Maybe tomorrow.” He’s pretty tired out. Orgasms like that don’t happen every day. “You can keep going, though.”

Dan reaches up and ruffles Jon’s hair. “You’re a sweetie. I’m going to be a little rough with you, that okay?”

Jon grins. “You should see how rough I am with myself when you’re not around.”

 _That_ makes Dan blink and laugh, a little surprised. (Jon is never going to get tired of catching Dan off guard.)  “I’d… like to see that sometime.” And then he’s moving, in teeny tiny rolling motions with his hips, his knot brushing up inside Jon and making everything over-sensitive and very, _very_ pleasurable.

It’s not long before Dan comes again. Jon understands. Dan’s been wanting this consciously a lot longer than Jon has. He gets a chance to enjoy it.

Jon will have more chances, too. They have the rest of their lives.

Dan’s knot stays in him, firm and thick, afterwards, making sure his come doesn’t leak out. So Jon just lies there, his head nestled in the crook of Dan’s neck, and watches the sun start to set out of his - their - bedroom window. Dan’s probably still too dazed to hear, but out in the distance, Jon hears an owl hoot.  In the morning, there will be the hum of cicadas.

He’s never been closer to another person than he is to Dan right now. Literally and figuratively. He wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.  The quiet of the prairie washes over him. Jon listens to Dan’s breathing start to match his own.

Dan reaches up and rests one of his big hands on Jon’s shoulder. “What’re you thinking about?” He says. His voice is low, but steady. He’s calm. He must feel safe, too. God knows Jon feels safe.

“Nothin’.” Jon says. He looks up at Dan and allows himself, not for the last time, to get lost in his sky blue eyes. “Thinking about home.” He pauses, and then clarifies. “Thinking about you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The rubber condom was invented and produced in 1855. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_condoms  
> 2\. Coconut oil isn't a perfect lube, but it's pretty good. https://www.glamour.com/story/coconut-oil-lube (this fic is actually just one big ad for coconut oil.)  
> 3\. I know it's the end of the fic but there's still an epilogue, so i'll give all of my weepy thank yous then.
> 
> Many thanks to tvietor08 for betaing this for me, remember to leave a comment if you liked it, and as always, REMEMBER TO VOTE IN THE MIDTERMS!


	14. Epilogue: June 16, 1898

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ma sighed gently and said, 'A whole year gone, Charles.' But Pa answered, cheerfully: 'What's a year amount to? We have all the time there is.'" - Laura Ingalls Wilder

Dan Pfeiffer stands at the far end of the train platform, so that the soot doesn’t get in his eyes. Normally he wouldn’t mind, but he has more to care about, now. Someone else who would start to cry if she got soot in her eyes.

It’s a beautiful day. Bright and clear. It’s been three years since the first time he met Jon on the end of this platform. 

Jon’s trip to Washington has become a tradition, sponsored by the Mayor’s office. Sometimes it’s solely for educational purposes. Sometimes it’s to protest. Usually Dan tags along, but not this year.  For the same reason that he’s stayed away from the front of the train platform.

Dan looks down at the tiny baby buggy next to him, pink and frilly and holding the most important thing in Dan Pfeiffer’s life, apart from Jon.

“Hey, sweetie.” Dan glances down the railroad tracks and then leans down to adjust the little stuffed puppy that his daughter is clutching in her hands. “What’re you thinking about?”

So maybe he likes to talk to her like she’s an adult. Sue him. He used to do it with the horses too.  His daughter is a lot smarter than the horses. He says that she must get that from Jon. Jon, of course, disagrees.

In her pram, his daughter giggles at something Dan can’t see. 

“What’re you laughing at, huh? What’s May Pfeiffer laughing at?” Dan leans over sideways, his hands behind his back. She clutches her little stuffed puppy close, a bit of her blanket near her mouth. She's dressed in a tiny cotton jumper that Tanya sewed.  With her other hand she grasps out ahead of her.

Dan turns and sees a familiar figure a few feet away. 

“I was making faces at her.” Mayor Obama says with a smile. “She’s beautiful.”

“Thank you, sir.” Dan beams with pride. 

“How old is she?” 

“A little over six months.” Dan pats the inside of the pram, lovingly lined with a knit blanket. 

“You stayed home to take care of her?”

“Lovett would have spoiled her rotten.” Dan jokes. “How are you doing, sir?”

“Very well.” The mayor stares up into the bright blue sunshine. “I assume you’re waiting for the same thing I am?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good turnout this year.” The mayor is tall, handsome. He looks much more relaxed than he did during the campaign. But Dan knows better. The mayor is always itching for something further. Some community to help, in any way he can. He’s a good man like that.

Dan hopes he’s a good man, too. He’s learned a lot in the last three years. Having a husband has helped. Having a daughter helps, too.

“Definitely.” Dan glances around at the other ends of the train platform. He can see other members of his town, friends of his. There’s Lovett at the other end of the train platform, nose pressed into a book. Jake Tapper and Jim Acosta are close by, talking quietly. Their hands are pressed to their necks, in the way that bonded folks sometimes do when they’re leaning into the bond. 

Dan touches his own bondmark and searches the back of his mind for Jon. He can feel him there, safe and happy. He doesn’t search further. Jon has his privacy, the same way Dan has his. 

He’ll be happy when he’s home, though.

Further down on the other side of the platform is Chris Hayes, who is talking to Ari Melber.  They both pause every few moments to make sure that their son isn’t running onto the train tracks.

There are other people, too. People that Jon’s met while taking Dan around. Dan’s lived in this town all his life, but he never really explored it before he met Jon.

Jon has a way of making the world seem brighter. Like someone’s dipped everything in gold and silver and bronze.

The mayor turns back and looks down at May again, tilting his head. May giggles. 

“What’s so funny about Mayor Obama?” Dan asks. He gives her his hand and she grabs at his wedding ring with her little fingers. 

“It’s the ears.” Obama says. “Listen, Dan, I’ve been thinking…”

“Never a good thing to do.” Dan rests his hand on the edge of the stroller.  _ I’d give you the ring, May, sweetie, but I’m worried you’d swallow it, and Jon would tan my hide if that happened.  _

“There’s always more work to be done in Pennsylvania.” The mayor puts his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah…” Dan narrows his eyes. “Go on.”

“I’m thinking of running for the U.S. Senate.”

Dan raises his eyebrows. “You’d be a good candidate, sir.” 

He smiles. “I certainly hope so. But I can’t do it alone, you know.” 

Dan blinks at him. “Sir, I’d be happy to help out the way I have in the past, but…”

“I was thinking something more formal.” Obama leans down and smiles at May, who’s dozing off, as babies do. Somewhere in the distance, a bird chirps. “I’d like you to manage my campaign.”

“Sir,” Dan feels the need to point out, “I don’t have any advanced education. Or formal training, or anything like that.”

“I think you could handle it. I’d say I’ve trained you enough.” The mayor smiles. “I’d like Jon to help out, too. Maybe he could help me write a speech?” 

A big grin comes across Dan’s face. “I think Jon would love that.”

Jon likes to write. Dan didn’t learn how much until later in their marriage.  He wrote poetry and tacked it above May’s crib. 

Dan’s been doing less writing, lately. More drawing. He has plans for an addition to the house. But if they’re running a campaign… well, they’ll figure it out. They always do.

“I’ll talk to Jon about it.” 

“I appreciate that.” The mayor reaches over and shakes Dan’s hand. “And congratulations again, on the little girl.” He tips his hat to the baby girl in the pram. 

Dan knows that the mayor’s daughter is on the train with Jon; in fact, he sees the train coming now.

Jon’s home; he doesn’t need to be bonded to him to feel the excitement. (It helps, though.)

After the children spill off the train like Lovett’s storage closet spilling open, Dan sees a blur of blond hair; Tommy’s come off the train for the last time, having completed the long series of trips to get his things in order before moving in with Lovett. 

He dashes past, running down the platform, and (his suitcase dropped somewhere in his rush) he picks up Lovett and spins him around. Laughter fills the air. Dan turns away, because it’s a private moment. 

And there, looking around for him, is someone who is just as happy to be back, if a bit more quiet about it. 

Dan rushes forward and helps Jon off the train, offering him his hand to lean on. He knows he looks overly reverent. That’s okay. He knows that he’s smitten with Jon, even three years after he married him. He waits for Jon. He watches for Jon. His husband and his daughter are his whole life. They’re what make his heart beat.  Dan knows that at some point in his life he was expected to be a big macho alpha whose omega would be at his beck and call. Well, it didn’t work out like that. 

He wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Hey there, stranger.” Dan says. He gives him a quick hug and a kiss before leading him over to the pram. 

“Hey yourself.” Jon leans in for another kiss before leaning in and picking May up, who squeals and wraps her little arms around his neck. “Aw, who’s my favorite girl? Are you happy to see me? I’m happy to see you!”

Dan smiles. God, he’s glad to see Jon again.  Navigating the infant between them, he leans in and gives Jon another peck on the lips, just because he can.

“How was Washington?” Dan asks.

“Good, educational. They have a new public library there, it’s beautiful. I wish you could have seen it.”

Dan shrugs. “Well, don’t get pregnant next time.”

Jon grins and waggles his eyebrows. “No promises.” 

Dan thinks about that for a moment. They should probably take a few years to let May grow and be an only child, but… Dan likes being a father. And the harvest will be good this year. Nature willing, it’ll be good in the years to come, too. It would take some more work to add another room to the house, but with Lovett and Tommy’s help...

Jon gives him a funny look.

“What?” Dan asks. 

“There’s a bit of soot on your cheek.” Jon reaches up and rubs at Dan’s face gently with his thumb, his brow furrowed. “C’mon, Dan, were you born in a barn?”

“Near one.” Dan allows himself to look at Jon with the softness that he’s been imaging him over the last week and a half. Jon always looks better in person than in Dan’s mind.  Jon is so much better than anything Dan could have thought up on his own, when he was writing that letter to Jon’s father, so many years ago. “Jon, it’s fine.” He playfully bats away Jon’s hand.

“Fine, fine.” Jon grins. “Just trying to make you look respectable.” 

“You’ll need to try harder than that.” Dan grins. “I’m never going to be respectable.”

“I respect you.”

“You do a lot more than respect me. You love me.” Dan can’t help it. He leans in for another kiss, a longer one. 

Jon breaks away and looks at May, whose eyes are already droopy from sleepiness in his arms as he rocks her a little. He adjusts his weight and carefully lowers her back into her buggy. She immediately snuggles back into the blankets, tensing for a moment, but not crying (thank God). She’s spoiled and happy. They both keep her spoiled; overly comfortable. They'

“I hope you two didn’t get into too much trouble while I was gone. Didn’t burn the house down or anything.” 

Dan rolls his eyes and puts his hands in his pockets. “We managed to keep ourselves occupied. She’s read all your books.” 

“Oh, has she?” 

“Every single one of them.” 

Jon takes the rare moment of quiet to wrap his arms around Dan’s neck, pulling him ever closer. The buzz of the rest of the train platform fades away. They just look at each other for a bit. 

There was a time when Dan felt bad even about looking at Jon. But he doesn’t feel that way anymore. 

Jon’s brow furrows. “Your collar is messed up. God, Dan, you’re falling apart,” he jokes. His fingers move to straighten it out.

Dan rolls his eyes good-naturedly. Jon’s always looking out for him. That’s what husbands do. “I’m hardly falling apart. Do you think that I don’t know how to live properly, without you?” 

“Yeah,” Jon replies with a smile, “I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The Washington DC public library system was established in 1896.
> 
> We've done it, folks! While I may have done all of the actual writing, I have to thank so, so many people for helping me turn this seed of an idea into a beautiful 50k plant. (50k, can you believe it?) I have to thank baking-soda for tagging some random gifset with some prairie ideas and giving me this inspiration, siobhanroy for fleshing it out with me, tvietor08, deardiary, and everyonewillsee for betaing, and finally, kenopsia for being my amazing cheerleader throughout every single chapter. This was a labor of love and I hope you all enjoyed it. Remember, if you loved this fic even half as much as I did, please leave a comment, but there's something you could do that would make me even happier...
> 
> VOTE IN THE MIDTERMS!!!!! :D


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